THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX; 


OR, 


THE    COMING   WOMAN, 


A    PROPHETIC    DRAMA, 


FOLLOWED  BY 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHETN. 


FIFTEENTH    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,   BROWN,    AND   COMPANY. 
1873- 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

LlfTLE,   BROWN,   AND  COMPANY, 
Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX; 

OR. 

THE    COMING    WOMAN, 
A   PROPHETIC    DRAMA. 


731385 


NOTE. 

THIS  play  was  not  written  for  the  stage,  nor 
with  any  view  to  publication,  but  simply  for 
amateur  performance  ;  and  therefore  all  scenery, 
stage-properties,  &c.,  were  purposely  dispensed 
with,  and  the  action  limited  by  the  resources 
of  a  drawing-room. 

The  other  little  pieces  were  written  two  years 
ago,  with  the  same  object,  and  under  the  same 
restrictions. 

CHESTNUT  HILL,  March,  1868. 


CHARACTERS. 


TOM  CARBERRY. 
MR.  WIGFALL. 
WOLVERINE  GRIFFIN. 
MRS.  BADGER. 
VICTORINE. 
THE  JUDGE. 

The  supposed  period  of  this  play  is  the  year  1876. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF  SEVENTY-SIX. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE    I. 

A  Waiting-room  in  a  Railway  Station;  hung  with  Timt 
Tables  for  1876  of  Pacific  Railroad,  direct  route  to 
Alaska,  Walrussia,  and  Nootka  Sound t  &c.  S*(. 
—  Enter  Carberry. 

CARBERRY. 

Provoking !  to  wait  here  an  hour  when  I  'm  in 
a  hurry  to  get  back  to  Boston  !  I  arrived  from 
China  yesterday,  after  ten  years'  absence,  —  took 
the  first  train,  —  and  just  as  I  am  almost  in  sight 
of  the  State  House,  the  engine  breaks  down  here 
at  Newton  Corner !  —  However,  I  must  make  the 
best  of  it Luckily  I  have  this  morning's 

paper.      (Lights  a  cigar,  and  takes  out  a  newspaper.)      "  Boston 

Daily  Advertiser,  September  25,  1876."  It  is 
incredible  that  I  have  lived  ten  years  without  the 
"  Daily "  !  I  have  heard  nothing  about  Boston 
since  I  left  it,  so  I  suppose  I  shall  find  some 
changes.  I  wonder  who  the  Bank  Presidents  are 
now.  (Reads.)  "  Merchants'  Insurance  Company,  — 
President,  Julia  Backbay."  Julia  ?  Misprint, 
I  suppose.  "  Firewomeri s  Insurance  Company." 


IO  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

Pshaw !  what  a  careless  compositor !  .  .  .  .  (Reads.) 
"  Wanted,  as  Porter  in  a  store,  a  good,  stout  .... 
WIDOW-WOMAN."  ....  What  a  very  extraordinary 
thing !  .  .  .  .  (Reads.-]  "  The  Freemasons'  secret  di 
vulged  by  a  lady"  ....  Some  fool  told  his  wife, 

I  suppose (Reads.)  "  The  Boston  Independent 

Cadets  paraded  yesterday  on  the  Common.  A  new 
feature  was  the  introduction  of  the  Parasol- Bayonet 
to  shield  the  complexions  of  our  fair  and  gallant 
Militia  from  the  sun.  The  parasol  is  of  blue  silk, 
attached  to  the  point  of  the  Bayonet,  and  the  effect 
on  the  march  is  exceedingly  neat  and  imposing" 
....  I  never  heard  anything  equal  to  that ! 
Soldiers  with  sunshades  !  One  would  think  they 
were  a  parcel  of  girls  !  It 's  time  for  another  war. 

Enter  MRS.  BADGER  in  Bloomer  costume.    She  nods ;  CARBERRY 
bows  politely. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
How  are  you,  sir?     Cigar,  please. 

CARBERRY. 

Madam,  I  'm  sorry  you  object  to  smoking,  but 
I  took  this  for  the  gentlemen's  waiting-room. 

•    MRS.  BADGER. 
Object  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?     I  want  a  light. 

CARBERRY. 

Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.       I  was   not  aware. 
(Aside.)     Queer-looking  female ! 

f  Gives  her  a  light  and  returns  to  his  paper.     MRS.  BADGER 
also  takes  out  a  newspaper. 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  II 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Bad  accident  to  the  "Amazon,"  sir. 

CARBERRY. 
What's  that? 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Portland  Steamer,  —  Captain  a  particular  friend 
of  mine,  —  Jane  Smith,  —  lost  her  reckoning,  and 
ran  aground  on  Cape  Cod.  Jane  always  was  a 
hen-headed  thing! 

CARBERRY. 
I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you, 

MRS.  BADGER   (reading). 

But  the  "Transcript"  says,  "No  blame  at 
tached  to  the  lady-like  Captain,  who  was  suffering 
under  a  severe  attack  of  neuralgia.  At  the  time  of 
the  accident  our  informant  was  talking  to  the 
woman  at  the  wheel"  ....  Ah !  that  was  the 
trouble. 

CARBERRY  (aside). 

I  don't  know  what  she  means.     (A  pause.) 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Bad  business  that  of  the  Boston  City  Govern 
ment.  It  has  all  come  out,  you  know,  —  Shame 
ful  misappropriation  of  the  public  money  ! 

CARBERRY. 
What  did  they  do  ? 


12  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Voted  themselves  each  a  Cashmere  shawl,  worth 
a  thousand  dollars.  Tax-payers  must  see  to  it  at 
the  next  election. 

CARBEERY. 

What  on  earth  should  the  City  Government  do 
with  Cashmere  shawls  ? 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Do  ?   Wear  them,  of  COUrse.      (Reads  her  newspaper.) 

CARBERRY  (aside), 

They  must  look  very  ridiculous  !  Middle-aged 
men  in  fancy  shawls  !  Dear  me  !  I  hope  it  is  n't 
the  fashion  here  for  everybody.  I  should  feel  like 

a  fool. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

We  manage  these  things  better  at  the  Centre. 
No  bribery  and  corruption  there. 

CARBERRY. 
What  centre  ?    Washington  ? 

MRS.  BADGES. 
Newton  Centre,  Stupid. 

CARBERRY. 
Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.     (A  pause.} 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Going  to  Boston,  sir  ? 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  13 

CARBERRV. 

Yes,  madam.  I  am  returning  after  an  absence 
of  several  years. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Going  to  live  in  Boston,  sir  ? 

CARBERRY  (aside). 

Inquisitive !  (Aloud.)  No,  madam,  I  am  only 
going  to  see  some  old  friends.  After  that,  I  shall 
live  in  the  country. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Where  ? 

CARBERRY. 

At  Chestnut  Hill,  if  you  must  know. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Chestnut  Hill !  —  that 's  in  my  district  —  I  'ra 
your  assessor. 

CARBERRY. 
I  beg  your  pardon  ? 

MRS.  BADGER. 
What 's  your  name  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Thomas  Carberry,  if  you  desire  it. 

MRS.  BADGER  (taking  out  a  note-book), 
What 's  your  income  ? 


14  THE    SP.RIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

CARBERRY. 
Madam ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Professional,  or  derived  from  property  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Excuse  me,  madam,  if  I  question  your  right  to 
ask  me. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Right !  of  course  I  Ve  a  right.     What 's  your 
income  ? 

CARBERRY. 

I  decline  to  answer. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
O,  you  must,  you  know,  —  the  law  compels  you. 

CARBERRY  (aside). 
This  woman  is  certainly  deranged. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

You  '11  be  fined  or  imprisoned  if  you  refuse  to 
answer  my  questions. 

CARBERRY  (aside), 

She  's  mad,  —  I  see  it  in  her  eye,  —  unpleasant 
to  be  shut  up  with  her  here. 

A  VOICE  (without). 

Cars  coming  for  Worcester  !     (Bell  rings.) 

MRS.  BADGER. 
That 's  my  train.     I  'm  off  to  the  Convention 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  15 

Goodbye.  I'll  see  you  again  about  it,  Carberry, 
—  there  's  my  card.  [Exit. 

CARBERRY  (reading  the  card). 

"  Mrs.  Barbara  Badger,  —  Newton.  Assessor  of 
Internal  Revenue  for  the  %th  District."  —  Singular 

delusion  for  a  woman She  certainly  must 

have  been  crazy,  and  yet  ....  I  can't  explain 
these  extraordinary  things  in  the  newspapers. 
....  Here  they  all  are  in  black  and  white,  and 

I  can't  understand  a  word  of  them Good 

Heavens !  what  if  I  were  a  little  out  of  my  head 

myself?  ....  an  effect  of  the  voyage I 

have  heard  of  such  things 

( Walks  up  and  down  in  great  agitation,  — feels  his  own  pulse,  — 
goes  to  the  other  end  of  Waiting-room.) 

Enter  VICTORINE  WIGFALL  in  a  shooting-dress,  with  gun,  game- 
bag,  Gfc. 

VICTORINE. 

O  !  how  tired  I  am  !  Tramping  all  the  morn 
ing  through  bogs  and  briers,  carrying  this  horrid 
gun,  —  and  I  'm  afraid  of  it  too  ! 

CARBERRY  (coming forward). 

Pray  let  me  relieve  you  of  it,  madam.   (Taking it.) 

VICTORINE. 

Oh,  thanks.  I  Ve  been  dragging  it  about  since 
sunrise,  because  some  of  my  friends  persuaded  me 
it  was  good  fun.  But  I  think  it 's  a  downright 
humbug,  and  I  '11  never  do  it  again. 


1 6  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

CARBERRY. 

Is  it  not  something  new  for  ladies  to  indulge  in 
field  sports  ? 

VlCTORINE. 

New  ?  Oh  no ;  all  the  girls  do. 

CARBERRY  (putting'  down  the  gun  and  seeing  her  name  on  it). 

"  Victorine  Wigfall !"  Why,  it  must  be  Joe 
Wigfall's  daughter  !  Allow  me  to  introduce  my 
self  ....  an  old  friend  of  your  father's  .... 
Mr.  Carberry. 

VICTORINE. 

Oh  yes,  indeed,  —  papa  will  be  delighted.  He 
often  talks  of  you.  You  have  been  in  some  out- 
of-the-way  place,  have  n't  you  ? 

CARBERRY. 
In  China. 

VICTORINE. 
Are  there  many  curious  spiders  in  China  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Spiders  ? 

VICTORINE. 

Yes.     I  'm  passionately  fond  of  spiders  .  .  . 
are  you  ?     I  Ve  got  a  beauty  here.     I  found  him 

this  morning  for  my  collection.      (Opens  a  box  and  pro 
duces  a  large  black  spider.}      Is  n't  he  lovely  ? 

CARBERRY  (recoiling). 

Ugh! 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  17 

VlCTORlNE. 

He  's  an  Epeira  Diadema.  Do  you  want  to 
take  him  ?  ....  No  ?  ....  Why,  are  you  afraid 
of  spiders  ? 

CARBERRY. 

I  thought  ladies  were.  I  'm  quite  surprised  to 
find  a  young  lady  interested  in  insects. 

VICTORINE  (wearily}. 

One  must  be  interested  in  something,  you 
know,  —  and,  to  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  horse- 
racing  and  dog-fighting  bore  me,  and  I  'm  not 
much  of  a  club-girl,  and  no  sportswoman,  —  so 
I  've  gone  into  spiders. 

CARBERRY  (aside). 

There  's  something  very  odd  about  all  this 
(Aloud.)  When  I  was  here  last,  young  ladies  in 
terested  themselves  chiefly  in  society.  Is  there 
no  gaiety  in  Boston  now  ? 

VICTORINE. 

Parties,  you  mean  ?  I  really  can't  tell  you  : 
I  've  hardly  been  to  a  party  since  my  Sophomore 
year.  I  don't  like  them.  It  is  so  unpleasant 
asking  gentlemen  to  dance  ....  they  make  such 
a  favour  of  it,  and  the  nicest  ones  are  engaged  ten 

deep And  then  they  always  want  so  much 

supper !      Really,   after   I  've  done   helping  my 
partner,  I  'm  so  tired,  that  when  I  get  home  I  've 

B 


18  THE    SPIRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

hardly  strength  to  turn  the  latch-key.     So  I  don't 

often  go And  yet  I  'm  fond  of  dancing 

too Are  you  ? 

CARBERRY. 

I  have  no  doubt  I  should  be,  with  such  a  charm 
ing  partner,  —  but  I  'm  afraid  I  have  n't  much 
experience. 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  does  n't  your  father  let  you  dance  round 
dances  ? 

CARBERRY  (puzzled). 

My  father? 

VlCTORINE. 

Why,  that  's  what  so  many  young  men  say. 
But  /  think  it  is  only  an  excuse,  because  they  are 
too  lazy. 

CARBERRY. 

Society  seems  to  have  changed  very  much,  for, 
when  I  left  Boston,  the  gentlemen  always  asked 
the  ladies. 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  can  you  remember  as  far  back  as  that  ?  I 
think  it  must  have  been  pleasanter  then  for  the 
girls,  —  but  mamma  and  Aunt  Wolverine  say  I 
don't  appreciate  the  blessings  of  emancipation. 
I  don't.  I  should  hate  to  vote  ....  and  I  'd 
a  great  deal  rather  keep  quiet,  and  be  asked  to 
dance,  or  to  ....  anything. 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  I<J 

CARBERRY. 

Miss  Wigfall,  such  sentiments  do  you  honour. 
A  lady  is  never  so  charming  as  when  adorned 
with  modesty,  of  which  I  see  the  emblem  in  your 
violet  eyes. 

VlCTORINE. 

How  pretty  !  Is  that  the  way  gentlemen  used 
to  talk  ?  Do  go  on. 

V 

CARBERRY  (aside). 

It 's  not  so  easy  for  a  shy  man  to  go  on. 

VlCTORINE. 

I  don't  know  anything  about  the  old  ways,  for 
mamma  says  lovers  were  frivolous,  and  won't  tell 
me,  ....  and  I  don't  believe  Aunt  Wolverine 
ever  had  any,  ....  so  I  can't  get  much  out  of 
her. 

CARBERRY. 

The  novels  of  the  period  would  perhaps  give 
you  some  idea. 

VlCTORINE. 

But  all  the  old  novels  were  burnt,  you  know,  by 
order  of  the  Ladies  of  the  Legislature,  because 
they  represented  Woman  in  her  degraded  state. 
They  say  there  used  to  be  a  few  at  Loring's 
Library  once,  but  he  only  keeps  philosophical 
and  scientific  works  now,  and  Mr.  Putnam's  Cook 
ery  Book. 


2O  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

CARBERRY. 
Do  you  mean  to  say  you  never  read  a  novel  ? 

VICTORINE. 

Only  "The  Imperial  Votress"  and  "The  Maid 
of  Saragossa." 

CARBERRY. 

No  novels !  ....  no  parties  !  No  poetry,  per 
haps,  —  that  would  be  a  good  thing.  Miss  Wig- 
fall,  did  you  never  hear  of  Tennyson  ? 

VICTORINE. 

O  yes,  indeed  !  I  have  a  beautiful  song  of  his,  — 
"  Come  into  the  garden,  George?  I  '11  sing  it  to  you 
some  day.  But  now  do  tell  me  about  old  times,  — 
for  the  train  may  be  here  any  moment,  and  per 
haps  I  shall  never  have  another  chance.  I  want 
to  know  whether  gentlemen  really  cared  anything 
for  ladies  then  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Certainly,  I  knew  a  great  many  fellows  who 
were  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  pretty  girls. 

VICTORINE. 

In  love !  There !  I  knew  there  was  such  a 
thing !  And  what  did  they  do  and  say  ? 

CARBEHRY  (aside). 

What  an  embarrassing  girl !  (Aloud.)  I  dare 
say  you  know  from  experience,  Miss  Wigfall. 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  21 

VlCTORINE. 

I !  —  no,   indeed,  —  I   never  made  an  offer  to 
anybody. 

CARBERRY. 

You  !  Of  course  not.     What  did  you  think  I 
meant  ? 

VlCTORINE. 

Were  you  ever  in  love  yourself? 

CARBERRY. 
Never,  never,  I  assure  you. 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  I  wish  you  had  been,  for  then  you  could  have 

told  me  all  about  it But  "those  fellows" 

you  spoke  of,  who  were  "  over  head  and  ears,"  — 
what  did  they  say  ?  •  I  only  want  to  know  what  it 
sounded  like Can't  you  sigh  ? — just  once ! . . . . 

CARBERRY  (very  much,  embarrassed], 
Really,  Miss  Wigfall 

VlCTORINE. 

Were  they  so  very  awkward  ?     Come  now,  — 
what  did  they  say  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Well,  then  ....  they  said  ....  they  said  .... 

A  VOICE  (-without). 
Train  starting  for  Boston  —  All  aboard ! 

fVicroRiNE  and  CARBERRY  snatch  up  guns,  bags,  shawh,  and 
rush  out. 


22  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 


ACT    II. 

Drzwing-room  in  Mr.  Wigfatts  house  in  Boston.  Mr. 
Wigfall  sitting  with  a  large  work-basket,  trying  to  darn 
his  own  stockings. 

Enter  CARBERRY. 
CARBERRY. 

WIGFALL,  old  fellow,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you 
again. 

MR.  WIGFALL  (not  recognizing). 

Whom  have  I  the  honour,  sir,  to  see  ?  .  .  .  . 


CARBERRY  (aside,  looking  at  the  stockings). 

What  on  earth  is  he  about  there  ?  .  .  .  .  can  he 
have  gone  mad  like  the  rest  ?  (Aloud.)  So  you 
don't  know  Tom  Carberry  after  ten  years  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL, 
Tom  !  my  dear  fellow,  —  where  ?  when  ?  how  ? 

CARBERRY. 

From  Shanghae,  —  a  sudden  idea,  —  arrived 
yesterday,  —  took  the  first  train,  and  here  I  am. 
I  met  your  lovely  girl,  what 's  her  name  ?  Glyce 
rine —  Bandoline  —  Kerosene —  Victorine!  at  the 
Railway  station,  —  did  n't  she  tell  you  ? 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  23 

MR.     WlGFALL. 

I  have  n't  seen  her.     She  dined  at  the  Club,  I 

believe. 

CARBERRY. 

Indeed  !      And  how  is  your  wife,  —  charming 
as  ever  ?  —  the  only  woman  I  was  never  afraid  of 

MR.   WlGFALL. 

Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  —  don't  speak  of  her. 

CARBERRY. 

Why,  you  have  n't  had  the  misfortune  to  lose 
poor  Susan  ?  .  .  .  . 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

No  ;  no  such  good  —  no  such  bad  luck.    She 's 
well  in  health,  but  .... 

CARBERRY. 
It  is  n't  her  mind,  I  hope  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL. 
Yes,  Tom,  it 's  her  mind,  though  not  in  the  way 

you  mean. 

CARBERRY. 

You  have  n't  separated,  surely  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL. 
Oh,  not  at  all,  —  though  I  don't  see  much  of  her 

nOW.       (Cries  of  a  baby  heard.}     ExCUSC  me,  Tom,  I  HlUSt 

run,  —  there  's  that  strong-minded  baby  ! 

CARBERRY. 
You  ?    Why,  where 's  the  nurse  ? 


24  THE   SPIRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX, 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

The  nurse  has  gone  to  a  primary  meeting  ! 

[Exit. 

CARBERRY. 

What  on  earth  can  he  mean  ? 

Re-enter  MR.  WIGFALL,  carrying  the  baby,  and  singing  "  Bye, 
Baby  Bunting." 

MR.  WIGFALL. 
Hush  .  .  .  .  sh She  's  going  off  .... 

I '11"  be    with   you   presently (Puts  the  baby  in  a 

cradle  at  the  tack  of  the  room.)  I  keep  her  cradle  down 
here,  lately,  because  it  is  election  time,  you  know, 
and  the  women  can't  attend  to  her. 

CARBERRY. 

Wigfall,  one  of  us  two  is  either  drunk  or  crazy, 
—  and  I  'm  afraid  it 's  I.  What  do  you  mean  by 
nursery-maids  and  elections  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL.  • 

Did  n't  you  know  the  ladies  had  gone  to  the 
front  in  America  ? 

CARBERRY. 
I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  understand  you. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Did  n't  you  read  our  papers  out  there  in  Shang- 
hae? 

CARBERRY. 

Never  ;  nothing  they  said  was  true  when  they 
got  there. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  25 

MR.   WlGFALL. 

My  dear  fellow,  you  're  behind  the  age.  You 
went  away  in  '66,  before  this  infernal  business  of 
women's  voting  came  up.  That  was  the  beginning 
of  it  all.  At  first  they  voted  for  their  favourite 
generals  and  ministers,  —  they  got  that  idea  from 
the  Fairs  they  used  to  have  in  the  war-time, — 
but  they  soon  gave  them  up,  and  began  to  elect 
each  other.  .  And  now  we  are  overrun  by  them. 
They  're  lawyers,  ministers,  tax-gatherers,  —  every 
thing  that 's  disagreeable ! 

CARBERRY. 

How  appalling  !  —  I  can't  comprehend  it,  for 
when  I  went  away,  the  trouble  was,  that  the 
women  were  entirely  given  up  to  extravagant 
dressing. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

I  know,  —  but  times  are  changed.  Then  we 
lived  under  a  Millinery  Despotism.  I  wish  we 

had  it  back ! 

CARBERRY. 

We  used  to  complain  a  good  deal  about  it,  I 

remember. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Tom,  the  present  state  of  things  is  a  judgment 
on  us,  —  we  did  not  know  when  we  were  well  off. 
Now  the  Ballot-box  has  crushed  the  Band-box 

flat. 

CARBERRY. 

You  don't  mean  to  say  women  no  longer  care 
how  they  look  ? 


26  THE   SPIRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

MR.  WlGFALL. 

Well,  —  not  quite  that,  —  even  my  wife  tries 
to  get  herself  up  like  the  Lord  Chancellor,  —  but 
it's  nothing  to  what  it  used  to  be.  It's  cheaper 
now,  —  but  still,  I  regret  old  times,  when  women 
were  women. 

Miss  GRIFFIN  (speaking  to  the  servant  behind  the  scenes), 

Now,  Bridget,  be  sure  you  vote  the  way  I  tell 
you  to,  and  persuade  all  your  friends,  and  I  '11  give 
you  a  pair  of  real  imitation  gold  ear-rings. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Hang  it,  here  's  my  sister-in-law  !  She  's  the 
worst  one  I  know. 

Enter  Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Joseph,  I  've  come  to  stay  till  Saturday,  as  I 
speak  on  Thursday  in  Faneuil  Hall. 

MR.  WIGFALL  (introducing). 

Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Carberry,  of  Shanghae, 
—  Miss  Wolverine  Griffin,  Selectwoman  of  New 
ton,  Mass. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Happy  to  see  you,  sir.  I  Ve  just  got  back  from 
Worcester,  Joseph.  Great  rally.  All  the  distin 
guished  women  of  the  State  were  there. 

CARBERRY. 
Was  it  a  baby-show  ? 


THE   SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  2J 

Miss  GRIFFIN  (indignantly). 

A  baby-show !  Sir,  it  was  the  Female  Areopa 
gus  of  the  Modern  Athens.  Heard  the  news,  Jo 
seph  ?  Glorious  nomination ! 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

No,  —  not  I.  Gentlemen  don't  understand  pol 
itics. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

But  you  should  try  to,  Joseph,  if  they  interest 
your  wife  and  your  sister.  Overwhelming  majority 
for  Hon.  Charleyanna  P.  Fillebrown  for  Governess 
of  the  State.  But  nine  against  her,  and  they  were 
only  men.  You  '11  support  her,  won't  you,  Joseph  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

It 's  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  support  myself.  I 
sha'  n't  make  any  promises. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

You  want  some  man,  I  suppose  !  As  if  we 
had  n't  had  enough  of  them ! 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

By  no  means,  my  dear  Wolverine.  I  am  only 
disappointed  that  they  did  n't  nominate  you. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Well,  you  need  n't  flatter  yourself  that  it 's  of 
the  slightest  consequence  how  you  vote,  —  for  Sis 
ter  Susan,  and  I,  and  Bridget,  and  the  cook,  and 
the  parlour-maid,  will  make  five  to  one  against  you 
in  this  house  alone.  But  I  can't  waste  my  valu- 


28  THE   SPIRIT    OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

able  time  arguing  with  you,  Joseph,  —  one  might 
as  well  talk  to  the  winds.  Men  have  such  frivolous 
minds,  —  they  don't  care  for  anything  but  dress 
and  company.  —  I  don't  mean  you,  Mr.  Carberry  ; 
I  dare  say  you  are  an  exception. 

CARBERRY. 

Everything  seems  to  be  exceptional,  madam,  so 
I  suppose  I  am,  too. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Pray,  sir,  what  are  Mrs.  Carberry's  political  con 
victions  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Madam,  I  have  the  misfortune  to  be  unmarried; 

MR.   WlGFALL. 

Stick  to  it,  Tom,  —  stick  to  it ! 

[Returns  to  his  baby. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Unmarried  !  That  will  never  do.  No  doubt 
you  feel  the  isolation  of  your  lot,  —  unfitted  as  you 
are  by  nature  to  struggle  with  the  rude  world  alone. 

CARBERRY. 

So  far,  I  have  got  along  pretty  well,  thank  you, 
ma'am. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

But  now  you  feel  the  need  of  female  guidance 
and  support.  I  understand  you  perfectly.  Leave 
it  to  me. 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX  29 

CARBERRY. 

Madam,  you  are  very  kind,  but  I  should  n't 
think  of  troubling  you  with  my  affairs. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

It  is  not  the  least  trouble,  I  assure  you.  Am  I 
not  bound  to  help  the  weaker  sex  ?  I  could  find 
you  a  wife  immediately.  I  know  exactly  what  you 
want. 

CARBERRY. 

That 's  more  than  I  do  myself. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

You  want  a  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend ;  so 
of  course  you  would  n't  marry  a  baby.  Then,  as 
to  mere  wax-doll  beauty,  of  course  you  don't  care 
for  that.  You  want  a  woman  of  majestic  presence 
(Drawing  herself  up\  —  mind,  —  experience,  —  heart,  — 
and,  above  all,  sound  political  principles,  which  are 
the  only  sure  foundation  on  which  to  erect  the 
fabric  of  connubial  bliss. 

CARBERRY. 

That's  a  new  sort  of  foundation,  isn't  it? — like 
pile-driving, — are  you  quite  sure  it  won't  "slump"  ? 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Oh,  my  dear  sir,  believe  me,  the  first  thing  in 
choosing  a  wife  is  to  ascertain  her  political  princi 
pies.  Be  sure  they  are  sound,  and  then  go  ahead. 
By  the  way,  perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear  my 
little  speech  before  the  Areopagus,  published  this 


3<D  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX 

morning  in  that  admirable  paper  "  The  Revolver." 
(Producing  it.)  Not  very  long,  you  see thir 
teen  columns  and  a  half. 

[CARBERRY  and  WIGFALL  look  at  each  other  and  groan. 

(Reads.}  "  The  Hon.  Wolverine  Griffin  then  rose, 
and  said :  '  Fellow-Sisters.  Woman  now  stands 
on  the  apex  of  the  social  Pyramid.  Man  is  a 
mummy.  The  successful  agitation  of  the  Great 
Idea  of  Woman's  Rights  has  worked  results  far 
transcending  the  fondest  hopes  of  its  originators. 
They  demanded  for  Woman  simple  Equality  with 
man,  but  Equality  conceded,  became  the  point  up 
on  which,  resting  the  lever  of  her  intellect,  Woman 
has  moved  the  world.  She  has  succeeded  where 
old  Archimedes  broke  down.  A  hundred  years 
ago  it  was  thought  a  fine  thing  for  a  few  Amer 
ican  men  to  throw  off  the  British  Tyrant's  yoke, 
—  but  that  was  a  trifling  achievement,  compared 
to  the  new  Revolution,  in  which  twenty  millions 
of  ladies  have  thrown  off  all  restraint,  and  now 
plant  their  victorious  feet  on  the  neck  of  the 

Male     Oppressor!      (Immense  cheering.}      Yes,    fellow- 

sisters,  the  tocsin  has  sounded,  the  Great  Ameri 
can  Principle  of  Female  Supremacy  is  spreading 
like  wildfire,  and  the  bloated  old  potentates  of 
Europe  shake  on  their  rotten  old  thrones. 
(Applause.}  Woman's  pre-eminence  is  conspicuous 
in  every  department  of  literature  and  art.  Poet 
esses,  painteresses,  sculptresses,  triumphantly  bear 
away  the  palm,  —  and  all  admit  that  as  an  oratress 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  3 1 

she  has  never  been  surpassed.  (Cheers.)  A  dis 
tinguished  lady-antiquary  has  recently  discovered 
that  the  immortal  Shakespeare  was  a  woman,  — 
and  this  fact,  while  it  settles  the  numerous  con 
troversies  as  to  who  and  what  he,  or  rather  she, 
was,  is  confirmed  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt 
by  the  ample  internal  evidence  contained  in  his, 
or  rather  her,  immortal  pages. 

MR.    WlGFALL. 

Thanks, — don't  tire  yourself  by  reading  anymore. 
Miss  GRIFFIN. 

How  you  interrupt,  Joseph  !  Men  never  listen, 
— they  always  want  to  talk  themselves  !  (Resuming.) 

"  '  Ancient  Woman  had  immense  opportunities, 
but  unhappily  she  did  not  know  it.  Bowed  to 
the  earth  as  a  sex,  the  few  individuals  who  stood 
up  were  very  conspicuous.  Semiramis  and  Cleo 
patra  both  stood  up  in  their  day,  and  might  have 
accomplished  much,  if  they  had  kept  clear  of 
entangling  alliances  with  men.  Boadicea  stood 
up,  in  her  chariot  (which  by  the  way  undoubtedly 
originated  the  idea  of  the  modern  mowing-ma 
chine,  refuting  those  cavillers  who  assert  that 
woman  has  invented  nothing).  Joan  of  Arc  stood 
up  in  her  day,  in  armour,  cap-a-pie,  and  it  worked 
well,  till  they  made  it  too  hot  for  her.  Glancing 
rapidly  at  Queen  Elizabeth,  Mrs.  John  Milton, 
Christina  of  Sweden,  Madame  Roland,  Joanna 
Southcote,  and  Mrs.  Fry,  who  all  stood  up  in  their 
several  departments,  —  I  come  down  to  modern 


32  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

times,  and  close  the  list  of  Ante-Revolutionary 
Heroines  with  the  illustrious  name  of  Mrs. 
Bloomer,  —  the  last  of  her  sex  who  stood  up 
entirely  alone.  She  sowed  the  dragon's  teeth 
which  produced  armed  women  from  Cape  Cod 
to  Alaska.  To-day  all  stand  up,  and  notoriety 
is  getting  to  be  next  to  impossible.'" 

That  .3  only  the  commencement.  But  I  must 
leave  you  now,  as  I  am  one  of  the  committee 
appointed  to  take  our  Nominee  by  the  hand, — 
otherwise  I  'd  read  you  the  whole Good  bye. 

\Exit. 

CARBERRY  and  MR.  WIGFALL  (together}. 
Thank  Heaven ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN  (returning). 

I  forgot  to  say,  —  I  am  on  the  Finance  Com 
mittee, —  great  need  of  funds  for  the  campaign. 
We  want  to  circulate  portraits  of  Charleyanna  P. 
Fillebrown  all  over  the  State No  use  ask 
ing  you,  Joseph  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Not  the  slightest,  —  but  here  is  Mr.  Carberry 
rolling  in  riches  ....  they  call  him  the  "  China- 
Astor ! " 

CARBERRY  (aside  to  WIGFALL). 

Confound  you,  Joe  !  (Aloud).  Madam,  I  never 
refuse  a  lady. 

Miss  GRIFFIN  (aside). 

Rolling  in  riches,  and  never  refuses  a  lady. — 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  33 

I  '11  make  a  note  of  that.  (Aloud,  graciously.')  Shall 
I  say  $  500  ?  .  .  .  .  thank  you.  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  give  a  little  something  towards  the 
purchase  of  a  steam  fire-engine  to  be  presented  to 
Queen  Emma  of  the  Sandwich  Islands  by  her 
admirers  in  this  city,  —  names  of  the  subscribers 
to  be  elegantly  engraved  on  the  machine  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Excuse  me,  ma'am,  —  but  I  hope  Her  Majesty 
won't  be  put  out,  if  I  prefer  objects  less  remote. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Ah,  then  perhaps  you  would  rather  subscribe 
to  the  new  Statue,  about  to  be  erected  in  the  Pub 
lic  Garden,  after  an  original  and  comprehensive 
design  by  the  gifted  Miss  Sculpin,  —  sometimes 
called  the  Phidias  of  the  West.  The  group  con 
sists  of  a  Colossal  Bronze  Egg,  burnished  like 
gold,  which,  cracking  open,  reveals  Woman, — 
lovely  Woman,  —  clad  in  complete  armour,  spread 
ing  her  new-fledged  wings.  The  inscription  is 
simply  "INCUBATED  AT  BOSTON."  Im 
agine  the  effect  at  sunset!  Could  anything  be 
finer!  —  Not  to  mention  the  beautiful  bas-reliefs 
of  myself  and  other  great  lady  reformers,  in 
bronze  pantalettes,  around  the  base. 

CARBERRY. 

Bronze?  I  should  think  brass  might  be  more 
appropriate. 

2*  C 


^4  THE    SPIRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Ah  !  my  dear  sir,  tin  is  what  we  want.  Shall  1 
say  $  300  ? 

CARBERRY. 

But,  madam,  I  assure  you  I  am  wholly  indiffer 
ent  to  .... 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

....  to  money,  in  such  a  cause,  —  I  knew  that 
would  be  your  characteristic  reply.  So  I  will  say 

$  300 Thank  you.     Good  evening !  .  .  .  . 

good  evening,  Joseph.  [Exit. 

MR.  WlGFALL  (solemnly). 

Are  you  aware,  Carberry,  of  the  awful  fact,  that 
there  are  two  hundred  thousand  more  women  than 
men  in  Massachusetts  alone  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Oh,  horrible,  —  most  horrible  ! 

MR.    WlGFALL. 

Yes,  and  every  year  it  gets  worse  and  worse,  — 
all  the  children  now  are  girls.  I  Ve  seven  myself. 
( The  baby  cries.)  "  Talk  of  the  angel."  —  There 's  my 

youngest  now.  [Goes  to  the  cradle  and  hushes  the  baby. 

Enter  JUDGE  WlGFALL  in  robes,  ermine,  and  long  $<rwdered 
wig,  with  a  brief  in  her  hand. 

CARBERRY  (astonished). 

Who  can  this  be  ?  Joe ! 


THE   SPIiUT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  35 

MR.  WlGFALL  (sitting  down  with  the  baby}. 

Tom,  this  is  Her  Honour,  Judge  Wigfall,  of  the 
Massachusetts  Supreme  Judicial  Court.  She  's 
hen  of  the  walk,  now. 

CARBERRY. 
Good  Heavens ! 

MR.  WIGFALL. 
My  dear,  do  you  recognize  an  old  friend  ? 

JUDGE  (to  CARBERRY). 

Pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  do  not  at  once  recall  you. 
In  what  case  did  you  appear  before  me  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Case  ?  Susan  !  Judge  !  Don't  you  remember 
Tom  Carberry  ? 

JUDGE. 
Carberry,  —  Carberry,  —  versus  whom  ? 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Stuff  and  nonsense,  my  dear You  recol 
lect  Tom,  —  went  off  to  China  ten  years  ago,  — 
don't  be  a  goose. 

JUDGE. 
Mr.  Wigfall !     Respect  this  Court ! 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

You  can't  have  forgotten  our  cosy  evenings  to 
gether,  —  he  and  I  smoking,  and  you  darning  the 
children's  stockings. 


36  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

JUDGE. 

I  remember  nothing  before  I  was  called  to  the 
Bar. 

MR.   WlGFALL. 

And  that  famous  pigeon-pie  you  made  us  your 
self  the  day  we  .... 

JUDGE. 

Mr.  Wigfall !  ( To  CARBERRY.)  Sir,  I  dimly  recall 
you  now,  and  I  welcome  you  back  to  this  regener 
ated  land. 

CARBERRY  (bowing). 

And  permit  me  to  congratulate  you  on  your 
singular  elevation. 

MR.  WIGFALL  (rocking  the  cradle). 

Well,  my  dear,  how  was  it  to-day  ?  —  Plaintiff 
or  defendant  ? 

JUDGE. 

Pardon  me,  Mr.  Wigfall,  if  I  decline  to  make 
my  grave  judicial  duties  a  subject  of  merriment 
for  you. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

How  often  did  you  change  your  mind  to-day  ? 

JUDGE. 
Mr.  Wigfall,  I  never  change  my  mind. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Oh,  fie,  fie !  Judges  should  n't  tell  fibs.  Did  n't 
I  go  to  hear  you  try  your  first  case  ? 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  37 

JUDGE. 
I  take  no  notice  of  idlers  who  hang  round  the 

Court-room. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

And  did  n't  you  first  charge  the  jury  to  be  sure 
and  let  the  poor  devil  off,  —  and  when  they  had 
been  out  ten  minutes,  did  n't  you  send  for  them 
back,  on  second  thoughts,  and  charge  them  all 
over  again  to  convict  him  ? 

JUDGE. 

Mr.  Wigfall,  you  cannot  be  expected  to  under 
stand  the  intricacies  of  the  law.  During  the  inter 
val  you  allude  to,  I  was  informed  by  Mrs.  Attorney- 
General  Talker  that  the  prisoner  in  question  had 
been  a  noted  and  violent  opponent  of  the  Emanci 
pation  of  Women. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

And  so  that  was  your  reason  for  having  him 
convicted  of  forgery,  eh  ? 

JUDGE. 

Mr.  Wigfall,  Chief  Justice  Mansfield  held  that 
Judges  should  never  give  their  reasons.  More 
over,  it  is  perfectly  competent  for  me  to  change 
my  mind  without  any  reason,  —  and  had  I  done 
so  twenty  years  ago,  in  your  case,  Mr.  Wigfall,  it 
would  have  been  a  wise  decision. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 
From  which  I  should  never  have  appealed  1 


38  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

JUDGE. 

Are  you  in  one  of  the  learned  professions,  Mr. 
Carberry  ? 

CARBKRRY. 

No,  madam,  I  am  a  tea-merchant. 

JUDGE. 

The  Male  mind,  as  a  rule,  is  unfitted  for  the 
learned  professions,  —  the  law  especially,  —  from 
its  habit  of  jumping  to  conclusions.  We  are  slow 
in  forming  a  judgment,  it  is  true,  —  but,  once 
formed,  it  is  unalterable.  You  agree  with  me,  sir? 

CARBERRY  (bowing). 
I  should  never  think  of  differing  from  a  lady. 

JUDGE. 

You  mean  that  our  opinions  cannot  fail  to  be 
correct,  from  the  logical  character  of  the  Female 
mind  ? 

CARBEBRY. 

Exactly,  madam,  —  I  have  always  observed  it  to 
be  so. 

[During  this  conversation  MR.  WIGFALL  is  flaying  bo-peep  with 
the  baby. 

JUDGE. 

At  the  same  time,  as  one  of  a  Conservative 
Judiciary,  I  shall  always  tolerate  Man  in  his  prop 
er  sphere,  and  never  countenance  ....  \Suddenly 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  39 

changing  her  tone.}  Mr.  Wigfall !  I  wish  you  'd  take  that 
child  up  stairs, —  I  can't  hear  myself  speak 

MR.  WIGFALL  (aside  to  CARBERRY). 

Come,  Tom,  let 's  go  and  sit  in  the  nursery. 
[Exit  MR.  WIGFALL  with,  the  baby,  followed  by  CARBERRY. 

JUDGE. 

I  say,  I  shall  tolerate  you  in  your  proper  sphere, 
and  never  countenance  the  popular  doctrine  of  the 
complete  Mental  and  Moral  Inferiority  of  Man. 
I  shall  always  be  ready  to  guarantee  your  Equal 

Rights.      (Looks  round  and  sees  no  one.}      Gone  !     While  I 

was  speaking  !  how  extraordinary ! 

Enter  VICTORINE. 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  where 's  Mr.  Carberry,  mamma  ? 

JUDGE. 

He  is  up  stairs  with  your  father,  —  minding  the 
baby.  (VICTORINE  is  going.}  Stop,  my  daughter.  I 
wish  to  speak  to  you.  (Seating  herself.}  Have  you 
read  your  Blackstone  to-day  ? 

VICTORINE.  , 
Yes,  —  no,  —  well,  some  of  it. 

JUDGE. 
And  your  Coke  upon  Littleton  ? 


40  THE   SPIR11    OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  that  nasty  thing 

JUDGE  (mournfully). 

Victorine,  you  will  break  your  mother's  heart ! 
You  have  the  finest  opening  of  any  girl  in  Boston, 

—  and  the  best  example,  —  and  if  you  loved  your 
Blackstone,  and  your  Cruise's  Digest,  you  might 
become,  like  me,  the  ornament  of  the  Suffolk  Bar. 
But  who  do  you  suppose  would  ever  give  you  a 
brief  ?     You  don't  deserve  to  be  my  daughter,  — 
and  the  end  of  it  will  be,  you  '11  have  to  marry,  — 
you  are  not  fit  for  anything  better ! 

[Bursting  into  tears. 

VICTORINE. 
I  don't  want  anything  better  ! 

JUDGE. 

Because  you  have  never  risen  above  the  level  of 
girls  before  the  Revolution.  I  give  you  up,  and  I 
shall  centre  all  my  hopes  upon  your  sister  Portia, 

—  a    child    of   great    promise,  —  who    cries    for 
Cruise's  Digest. 

VlCTORINE  (clapping  her  hands). 

Hurrah  !  then  I  need  n't  be  a  lawyer,  after  all ! 

JUDGE. 

But  you  must  be  provided  for  ;  and,  since  you 
are  too  lazy  for  the  Law,  and  too  gfiddy  for  the 
Church,  and  too  pretty  for  a  Family  Physician, — 


THE    Sl'IRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  4! 

I  see  but  one  resource.  —  What  do  you  think  of 
this  Mr.  Carberry  ? 

VlCTORINE. 

I  think  he  's  awfully  jolly,  mamma,  —  but  do  let 
me  go ! 

JUDGE. 

I  wish  you  to  give  up  calling  me  "  Mamma."  It 
is  unsuited  to  my  present  dignity.  I  wear  my 
robes  of  office  in  private  life,  on  purpose  to  inspire 
respect.  The  Lord  Chancellor  Erskine  (though  a 
man)  most  pertinently  says,  "Supreme  Judges 
should  always  be  seen  in  grave  and  suitable 
habits  of  distinction,  to  point  out  their  stations, 
and  continue  the  reverence  inspired  by  their 
dignified  appearance  when  administering  the 
laws."  —  But  to  return  to  Mr.  Carberry.  —  If  I 
were  you,  Victorine,  I  should  propose  to  him, 
immediately. 

VICTORINE. 

Oh,  mamma  ....  Your  Honour,  I  mean  .... 
I  could  n't,  possibly 

JUDGE. 

Why  not  ?  They  say  he  has  made  a  large 
fortune. 

VICTORINE. 

Oh,  I  could  n't,  indeed I  shouW  die  of 

mortification. 


42  THE    SPIRIT    OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

JUDGE. 

Well,  my  daughter,  if  you  don't  secure  him,  he 
will  certainly  be  snapped  up  by  some  of  those 
manoeuvring  fathers,  who  are  always  on  the  look 
out 

VlCTORINE. 

I  can't  help  it.  I  shall  wait  Who  knows  ? 
he  might  ask  me. 

JUDGE. 
Men  never  do  now,  —  that  custom  is  exploded. 

VlCTOBINE. 

Besides,  /  believe  there  is  such  a  thing  as  falling 
in  love,  after  all. 

JUDGE   (rising). 

I  tell  you,  love  is  as  obsolete  as  a  line-of-battle 
ship.  Wives  rule  their  husbands,  and  the  memory 
of  woman  runneth  not  to  the  contrary.  But  do 
as  you  like.  For  my  part,  I  disapprove  of  marriage 
altogether.  I  consider  it  a  waste  of  time  for  any 
intelligent  woman  ;  but  you  will  never  be  able  to 
earn  your  salt  in  any  decent  calling,  and  you 
must  either  marry  —  or  be  sent  to  Congress. 

VlCTORINE. 

I  don't  care.     /  sha'  n't  ask  him. 

JUDGE. 

Just  as  you  please,  —  but  mark  my  words,— 
he  '11  be  snapped  up  within  twenty-four  hours. 

{Exit  JUDGE. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  43 

VlCTORINE. 

It  s  a  dreadful  trial  to  a  girl  to  have  a  Judge 
for  her  mamma !  I  don't  like  to  go  and  look  for 
Mr.  Carberry,  after  what  she  said.  Perhaps,  if  I 
sing  something,  he  will  hear  it  and  come  down. 

(Sings.) 

Come  into  the  garden,  George, 

Don't  sit  there  all  night  and  drone. 
Come  into  the  garden,  George, 

I  am  smoking  here,  alone. 
And  the  smell  of  your  Meerschaum  is  wafted  abroad, 

And  the  scent  of  Cabanas  blown. 

For  a  breeze  of  evening  moves, 

And  the  planet  of  Love  doth  rise, 
I  'm  beginning  to  puff  the  weed  we  love 

In  a  smoky  Paradise. 
To  puff  in  great  clouds  the  tobacco  we  love, 

From  a  pipe  coloured  brown  as  your  eyes. 

Come  into  the  garden,  George,  &c.  &c. 
Enter  CARBERRY  whilst  she  sings. 

CARBERRY. 

Miss  Victorine !  Charmed  to  see  you  again. 
Do  you  come  from  the  Opera  ? 

VICTORINE. 

No,  only  from  playing  a  game  of  billiards  at  the 
Club, — but  all  the  jolly  girls  had  gone  to  ride  a 
steeple-chase,  and  there  was  only  the  marker  to 
play  with,  —  who  's  a  horrid  old  woman,  —  so  I 
came  home 


44  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

CARBERRY. 
And  how  is  your  interesting  reptile  ? 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  you  called  him  ugly,  so  I  threw  him  out  of 
the  window.  —  Now  I  want  to  ask  your  advice 
about  a  profession.  I  have  been  thinking  about 
it  for  a  whole  half-hour.  I  hate  the  law,  and  I 
think  I  '11  be  a  doctor,  —  would  you  ? 

CARBERRY. 

A  doctor  !  No,  certainly  not.  What  on  earth 
should  you  know  about  doctoring  ? 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  I  know  a  good  deal  about  it.  I  've  skimmed 
over  half  a  fat  book  on  Rheumatism.  And  you 
know  I  Ve  got  to  do  something.  Girls  must 
earn  their  living,  because  there  are  two  hundred 
thous  .... 

CARBERRY  {interrupting  her). 

Yes,  yes,  I  know,  —  but  I  advise  you  to  retain 
your  natural  profession. 

VlCTORINE. 

What 's  that  ? 

CARBERRY  (with,  a  low  bmo\ 
Being  a  charming  young  lady. 

VlCTORINE. 

I  never  heard  any  one  say  such  pretty  things 
as  you  do  !  And,  by  the  way,  you  were  beginning 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  45 

to  tell  me  something  very  interesting  when  that 

provoking    train    interrupted    us About 

those  friends  of  yours  who  were  so  much  in  love, 
you  know. 

CARBERRY. 

It  would  sound  very  flat  at  second  hand. 

VICTORINE. 

Yes,  it  is  a  pity  you  have  not  been  in  love 
yourself,  for  then  you  could  describe  it  better  ;  — 
but  never  mind,  —  do  try.  What  did  your  friends 
do  first  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Well,  first,  I  suppose  they  would  tell  the  young 
lady  she  was  charming. 

VICTORINE  (aside). 

Exactly  what  he  said  to  me  just  now.  (Aloud.) 
Well  ?  —  go  on. 

CARBERRY. 

Then  they  would  perhaps  send  flowers,  and  go 
to  church  with  her  very  regularly,  and  say  they 
liked  it. 

VICTORINE.  fc 

Yes,  —  and  what  next  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Then,  if  they  were  very  far  gone,  and  she  ob 
jected,  perhaps  they  'd  give  up  smoking,  —  but 
that  was  only  in  extreme  cases. 


46  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

VlCTORINE. 

Oh,  but  is  that  all  ?  did  n't  they  say  anything  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Well,  —  yes,  —  if  they  got  a  good  chance,  and 
could  screw  up  their  courage,  perhaps  they  would 
take  the  young  lady's  hand  (taking  VICTORINE'S)  and 
say  .... 

VlCTORINE. 

Well,  —  what  ?  Why  do  you  stop  ?  They  would 
say  .  .  .  .  ? 

CARBERRY  (tenderly). 

They  would  say,  —  Dearest  ....  what  lovely 
weather ! 

Enter  MRS.  BADGER. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
How  are  you,  fellows  ? 

CARBERRY  (aside). 

Thunder  !  what  a  bore  !  Just  as  I  had  almost 
made  up  my  mind  to  go  it !  Why,  it 's  that  In 
fernal  Revenue  woman  ! 

VICTORINE    (tartly). 

If  you  have  come  to  see  Aunt  Wolverine,  she  is 
out,  Mrs.  Badger. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

No,  my  business  is  with  Carberry  here.  (?t> 
CARBERRY.)  I  saw  you,  just  now,  looking  out  of  the 


THE   SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  47 

nursery  window,  so  I  stepped  in,  to  continue  our 
little  conversation  about  your  income.  I  must 
trouble  you  to  go  away,  Miss  Victorine,  as  Income 
Returns  are  strictly  confidential. 

VICTORINE. 

Confidential  ?  Yes,  till  you  publish  them  in  the 
newspaper.  (Aside.)  Provoking  creature 

{Exit  VICTORINE. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Now  then !  make  haste,  —  for  it  s  getting  late, 
and  you  know  you  '11  be  taken  up,  if  you  are  out 
after  ten. 

CARBERRY. 

Taken  up  !    What  for  ? 

MRS.  BADGER. 

New  order  of  the  Board  of  Alderwomen,  "  Any 
man,  found  absent  from  his  home  after  ten  o'clock 
at  night,  fined  for  a  misdemeanour."  The  City 
Grandmothers  mean  to  put  a  stop  to  men's  staying 
out  till  cock-crow,  and  making  their  wives  sit  up 
for  them. 

CARBERRY. 

I  shall  go  directly  back  to  China. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
You  made  a  large  fortune  out  there,  did  n't  you  ? 

CARBERRY. 

It 's  the  only  country  fit  to  live  in,  —  they 
drown  the  superfluous  females  young ! 


48  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Come !  don't  shilly-shally.    What 's  your  income  ? 

CARBERRY  (reluctantly}. 

Well,  perhaps  ten  thousand  dollars. 

MRS.  BADGER  (writing  it  down). 
Married,  or  single  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Oh,  single,  certainly. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Age,  then  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Madam  ? 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Well,  —  age  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Madam,  I  don't  see  what  my  age  has  to  do 
with  my  income. 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Fiddle !     Come,  how  old  are  you  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Madam,  permit  me  to  say  that  it  is  none  of  your 
business. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

It  is,  —  my  very  particular  business,  as  long  as 
you  are  unmarried, — "  Special  Income-tax  for  Bach 
elors  over  thirty  years  of  age,  —  fifty  per  cent." 

CARBERRY. 
Fifty  per  cent  t    Monstrous  !     I  don't  believe  it 


THE   SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  49 

MRS.  BADGER. 
There 's  the  printed  form.     (Hands  it  to  him.) 

CARBERRY. 

This  comes  of  your  infernal  female  legislating,  I 
suppose !  It 's  unconstitutional !  It 's  anarchical ! 
Tt  's  despotic !  I  won't  submit  to  it ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

'Large  excess  of  women  over  men  in  the  United 
States.  Majority  two  hundred  thousand  in  Mass 
achusetts  alone.  Majorities  are  always  right,  you 
know. 

CARBERRY. 

And  am  I  to  be  the  victim  of  your  horrible 
statistic  ? 

MRS.  BADGER  (coolly). 

If  a  man  chooses  to  give  himself  the  luxury  of 
being  a  bachelor,  he  must  pay  for  it,  like  other 
luxuries.  All  the  men  take  it  hard,  at  first,  but 
they  soon  come  round.  So  don't  bother,  but  just 
tell  me  your  age. 

CARBERRY. 

Nineteen ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Fiddle !  if  you  don't  tell  the  truth,  I  shall  put 
you  down  as  fifty.  You  're  thirty-five,  if  you  're  a 
day.  When  was  your  birthday  ? 

CARBERRY. 
Yesterday !  I  came  of  age. 

3  » 


5<D  THE   SPIRIT   OP    SEVENTY-SIX. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Very  well! —  (Writing.}  "Thomas  Carberry, 
Bachelor,  age,  fifty."  It  's  a  retrospective  tax, 
you  know,  —  takes  in  every  year  since  you  were 
thirty,  —  fifty  per  cent  on  ten  thousand  dollais  for 
twenty  years  ....  five  times  twenty  ....  One 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  you  will  please  hand 
over  to  the  government,  and  I  '11  give  you  a  receipt. 

CARBERRY. 

Outrageous  !  I  'm  only  thirty-two,  I  '11  take  my 
oath  of  it !  It 's  an  extortion,  —  a  swindle,  —  an 
infamous  swindle ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

If  you  are  not  satisfied,  I  '11  call  you  sixty,  — 
I  Ve  a  right  to  make  you  any  age  I  please. 

CARBERRY  (getting  more  and  more  angry). 

A  right!  And  7've  a  right  —  an  inalienable 
right  — to  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happi 
ness  !  Are  Men's  Rights  trampled  underfoot  ?  Is 
there  no  Antislavery  sentiment  left  in  Boston  ? 
No  Society  for  the  Abolition  of  Women  ?  What 
are  all  the  philanthropists  about,  now-a-days,  I 
should  like  to  know  ? 

MRS.  BADGER. 

It  would  be  clearly  unjust,  in  a  Republican 
country,  and  contrary  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Age,  if 
a  great  strong  man,  like  you,  were  allowed  to  live 
in  wealth  and  idleness,  while  TWO  HUNDRED  THOU- 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  5 1 

SAND  SINGLE  WOMEN  in  your  own  State  have  to 
support  themselves.  If  you  won't  marry,  you  must 
make  it  up  to  them  in  another  way. 

CARBERRY  (exasperated). 

And  do  you  pretend  to  say  that  fifty  cents 
apiece  is  going  to  make  up  to  them  for  not  marry 
ing  me  ?  —  I  never  would  have  left  China,  if  I  'd 
had  any  conception  of  this !  Women  legislating, 
and  robbing,  and  murdering  !  —  It  has  no  parallel 
in  history  !  Draco  and  Robespierre  were  kittens, 
compared  to  them  !  It 's  enough  to  make  George 
Washington  turn  in  his  grave  !  Madam  !  I  .... 
I  ....  I  wish  you  a  good  evening !  (Rushes  out.} 

MRS.  BADGER  (calling  after  him). 
I  '11  send  you  the  bill  to-morrow. 


52  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 


ACT    III. 

Drawing-room  in  Mr.    WigfaWs  house.     Carberry 
alone. 

CARBERRY  (pulls  out  a  note  and  reads}. 

"  Seven  o'clock,  ....  call  here  ....  impor 
tant  communication,  ....  yours  truly  ever  .... 
Wolverine  Griffin."  ....  Well,  that  's  beyond 
me  !  but  I  may  get  another  look  at  Victorine  by 
being  here.  I  came  home  with  the  idea  of  marry 
ing  some  nice  pretty  little  wife,  such  as  they  used 
to  have,  —  who  would  make  much  of  me,  and  give 
me  good  dinners,  and  look  pretty  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  —  which  is  all  a  man  wants  in  a  wife. 
But  they  have  all  turned  into  such  catamarans, 
that  I  feel  discouraged  ....  that  is,  all  except 
Victorine 

Enter  Miss  GRIFFIN. 

• 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Mr.  Carberry,  how  kind  !  you  were  not  uneasy  ? 
I  am  a  little  late.  Excuse  me,  —  sit  down,  and 
I  '11  explain.  But,  first,  it  may  be  proper  to 
review  the  events  of  the  past  ten  years. 

CARBERRY. 

'Hem.  (Looking at  his  watch.}  We  might  do  five 
to-day,  and  the  rest  some  rainy  afternoon.  Begin, 
madam  ;  I  am  all  attention. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  53 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

You  find  a  great  change  in  our  midst,  my  dear 
sir,  on  your  return.  Woman  has  taken  her  right 
ful  place,  and,  no  longer  the  Slave  of  Man,  shares 
with  you  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  citizen 
ship.  A  glorious  change,  Mr.  Carberry. 

CARBERRY. 
A  very  striking  change,  indeed,  madam. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

A  glorious  change,  Mr.  Carberry  !  The  cruel 
Past  is  wiped  out,  with  all  its  brutal,  barbarous 
conventionalities,  and  the  Female  is  free  !  When 
you  went  abroad,  my  dear  Mr.  Carberry,  she  haft 
no  initiative,  —  positively  no  initiative.  Her  af 
finities  were  stifled,  and  her  tongue  was  paralyzed. 
It  was  her  humble  part  to  silently  await  the 
Coming  Man,  who,  perhaps,  never  came,  or  might 
better  have  stayed  away. 

CARBERRY. 

A  trying  position,  certainly.  (Aside.)  Thunder  ! 
what  a  bore  she  is ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

It  was  a  cruel,  cruel  law  which  debarred  us  from 
the  free  exercise  of  our  choice  in  the  most  im 
portant  crisis  of  our  lives.  With  perceptions,  too, 
so  much  finer  than  those  of  Man,  by  which  to 
detect  the  right  person  at  once. 


54  THE   SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

CARBERRY. 

Precisely But  I  think  you  spoke  of  wish 
ing  to  see  me  on  business  ? 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Now,  Woman,  trusting  to  her  unerring  instinct, 
goes  frankly  to  the  man  of  her  choice,  and  gives 
him  her  hand  with  her  heart  in  it  ....  thus  .... 

(Offering  her  hand.) 

SERVANT  (at  the  door). 

Miss  Griffin,  the  Chairwoman  of  the  Committee 
for  the  Suppression  of  Male  Dinner-parties  is 
down  stairs,  —  says  she  must  see  you  on  business. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Provoking !  But  you  sit  perfectly  still,  and  I  '11 
be  back  directly.  [Exit  MISS  GRIFFIN. 

CARBERRY  (alone). 

Good  Heavens  !  what  a  dreadful  situation  I  am 
in  !  This  woman  is  evidently  going  to  make  me 
an  offer  of  marriage  !  What  shall  I  do  ?  —  What 
can  I  say  ?  —  What  on  earth  was  it  young  ladies 
used  to  say  in  the  good  old  times  ?  —  I  am  so 
upset,  I  can't  even  recollect  what  that  pretty 
Fanny  Slippery  said  to  me  in  Shanghae  !  This  is 
a  thousand  times  worse  than  being  refused  one's 
self  ....  Let  me  see  ....  Fanny  made  at  least 
a  dozen  excellent  excuses  ....  too  young  .... 
short  acquaintance  ....  inexperience  .... 


THE    SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  55 

Re-enter  Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

An  unwelcome  interruption,  but  you  won't  think 
the  worse  of  me  for  putting  public  duty  before 
private  feeling.  "  I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so 
much,  loved  I  not  honour  more."  ....  Dear  Mr. 
Carberry,  you  can't  have  mistaken  me. 

CARBERRY. 

Forgive  me,  Miss  Griffin,  but  on  so  short  an 
acquaintance  ....  I  assure  you  I  never  sup 
posed  .... 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Yes,  it  is  short,  as  the  world  counts  time,  —  but 
what  of  that,  since  henceforth  our  whole  lives 
will  be  devoted  to  each  other  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Indeed,  I  never  imagined  that  your  feelings  for 
me  were  more  than  a  mere  passing  admiration  .... 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

That  shows  you  have  no  comprehension  of  the 
transcendent  Truthfulness  of  Woman.  We  should 
scorn  to  pay  attentions  to  a  young  man,  and  win 
his  timid  affections,  and  then  shy  off,  and  mean 
nothing  after  all.  Oh  no,  my  dearest  Thomas,  I 
am  deeply,  terribly  in  earnest ! 

CARBERRY. 
I  am  most  sorry,  believe  me,  if  any  thoughtless- 


56  THE   SPIRIT  OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

ness  of  mine  has  encouraged  these  hopes.  (Aside.] 
Thunder  !  how  hard  she  is  to  refuse  !  (Aloud.}  I 
have  no  idea  of  marrying,  I  assure  you. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
And  why  not  ?    Why  bloom  a  single  rose  ? 

CARBERRY. 
'Oh,  I  'm  too  young ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
I  will  wait. 

CARBERRY. 

I  am  so  ignorant,  so  inexperienced  ....  I  am 
not  worthy  of  you.  Forget  me,  I  entreat  you, 
and  be  happy  with  another  ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Never !  My  happiness  depends  on  your  con 
sent  !  I  '11  blow  my  brains  out  if  you  refuse  ! 

(Goes  down  on  her  knees.)  I  will  not  live  without  )rOU  ! 
(Seizing  his  hand.) 

CARBERRY  (trying  to  get  away). 

Don't,  —  don't,  —  my  dear  Miss  Griffin  !  Get 
up,  I  beg  of  you  !  you  distress  me  exceedingly  ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

No  !  I  '11  take  root  at  your  feet !  I  '11  never 
get  up  till  you  give  in. 

CARBERRY  (in  despair). 
Well,  well  ....  I  hear  some  one  coming, — 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  5/ 

only  get  up,  and  I  '11  see  about  it,  —  I  '11  refer  you 
to  my  father  .... 

Enter  JUDGE. 

Miss  GRIFFIN  (rising). 

My  dear  sister,  congratulate  me ;  Mr.  Carberry 
has  promised  to  be  mine  ! 

JUDGE  (aside). 

Just  as  I  said  !  he  is  snapped  up.  Quam  celeri- 
ter !  (Aloud.)  Wolverine,  there  are  higher  aims 
than  marriage  for  the  Women  of  '76,  —  and,  from 
my  own  experience,  I  think  a  woman's  career  is 
hampered  by  a  husband.  But  try  it,  if  you  like. 
Do  you  wish  to  be  married  immediately  ? 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
/  'm  all  ready. 

JUDGE. 

Then  I  will  receive  your  declaration,  which  is 
all  that  is  necessary  to  constitute  a  legal  marriage. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
You  begin,  dear  Carberry. 

CARBERRY. 

Oh,  impossible !  quite  impossible  !  My  con 
science  would  never  permit  such  a  thing.  I 
should  n't  feel  married  at  all,  unless  it  were  in 
church. 

3* 


$8  THE    SPIRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

JUDGE. 

Sir,  religion  has  been  reconstructed,  —  and  such 
superstitions  are  out  of  date. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Yes,  I  wonder  you  should  cling  to  those  old- 
fashioned  prejudices.  However,  if  you  really 
prefer  it,  we  can  send  for  the  clergy  woman.  The 
Rev.  Arabella  Parsons  lives  next  door. 

CARBERRY. 

Oh  no,  you  must  n't  hurry  me,  indeed.  I  .... 
I  ....  (Struck  by  an  idea.}  I  want  at  least  three 
months  to  send  to  Paris  for  my  trousseau.  I  could 
n't  think  of  having  my  wedding  coat  made  in 
Boston.  I  won't  be  married  at  all  unless  I  can 
have  a  proper  wedding. 

JUDGE  (indignantly.") 

A  proper  wedding  !  Sir,  I  would  have  you  to 
know  that  a  contract  made  before  me  is  eminently 
a  proper  wedding.  A  simple  declaration  of  your 
intention  is  all-sufficient  in  the  eye  of  the  law. 
In  fact,  I  believe  you  have  both  already  said  so, 
and  I  shall  proceed  to  make  out  the  necessary 
certificate,  without  loss  of  time.  (Takes  a  pen.} 

CARBERRY  (seizing  her  arm), 

No !  I  '11  swear  ....  I  mean,  I  'm  sure  I 
did  n't  ....  you  misunderstood  me.  I  beg  you, 
ladies,  to  give  me  a  little  time  to  recover  myself. 


THE   SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  59 

....  This  ....  happiness  ....  has  been  so 

unexpected,  I  feel  quite  overcome I  will 

give  you  an  answer  by  and  by  ....  but  now  I 
have  a  severe  headache  ....  brought  on  by 
nervous  excitement 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Nervous  excitement!  Shaker  Extract  of  Va 
lerian  is  what  you  want.  Lie  down  on  the  sofa, 
and  put  your  feet  up,  and  I  '11  bring  you  some  in 

a  quarter  of  an  hour.      (Making  CARBERRY  lie  down.} 
JUDGE  (looking  at  him  with  disdain), 

Men  are  not  like  us,  Wolverine.  They  have  no 
strength  of  mind. 

[Exeunt  Miss  GRIFFIN  and  JUDGE.    CARBERRY  covers  his  face 
with  his  handkerchief  and  groans. 

Enter  MRS.  BADGER,  who  goes  to  the  sofa  and  peeps  under 
the  handkerchief. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Ah,  Carberry !  I  thought  I  should  find  you  here 
....  about  that  little  matter  of  the  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  you  know. 

CARBERRY. 

Oh,  go  away  —  I  'm  ill  ....  I  'm  very  busy 
....  I  'm  asleep  ....  I  can't  attend  to  you 
now. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

I  always  like  to  be  accommodating,  and  I  Ve 
thought  of  a  way  to  settle  it. 


6O  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

CARBERRY  (reviving  a  little). 

What? 

MRS.  BADGER. 
You  must  marry  at  once. 

CARBERRY. 

I  won't,  —  /  won't,  —  I  WON'T  ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

That  will  exempt  you  from  the  Bachelor's  Tax 
in  future,  —  but  the  retrospective  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  will  remain  to  be  paid,  unless  you 
marry  the  right  person,  —  and  there  is  BUT  ONE. 

CARBERRY. 
Who  ?  in  the  name  of  thunder  ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 
ME. 

CARBERRY. 

You !    You  're  married  already  !  It  says  "  Mrs." 

on    your    confounded    card (Pulling  it  out 

of  his  pocket.}     Where  is  Mr.  Badger?     I  appeal  to 
Mr.  Badger  for  protection  ! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Fiddle !  Mr.  Badger  has  been  dead  and  buried 
these  seven  years. 

CARBERRY. 
A  widow !     I  never  thought  of  that.      (Sinks  inu 

a  chair.} 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  6l 

MRS.  BADGER. 

You  see,  if  you  marry  me,  I  '11  let  you  off  pay 
ing  the  money  to  the  government,  and  we  '11 
spend  it  together. 

CARBERRY. 

Venal  and  corrupt  official !  —  is  that  the  way 
you  betray  your  trust  ?  I  '11  denounce  you !  I  '11 
publish  it  in  all  the  papers !  I  '11  have  you  turned 
out! 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Pooh !  You  would  n't  be  so  silly,  —  for  then 
you  'd  have  to  pay  up  ....  twenty  years  from 
thirty  to  fifty  .... 

CARBERRY  (furious). 

I  tell  you  I  'm  not  fifty  ....  I  '11  call  the 
police  !  .  .  .  .  Miss  Griffin  !  Miss  Griffin  ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN   (running  in). 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
What 's  the  matter  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Take  away  this  assessor !  She  's  offering  her 
self  to  me ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

You,  Badger  ?  How  audacious !  He 's  engaged 
to  me. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

He  has  changed  his  mind,  —  he  prefers  me. 


62  THE    SPIRIT   OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Badger,  I  'm  ashamed  of  you  !  Annoying  a 
poor  young  man  in  this  way !  What  would  be 
come  of  him  if  he  had  n't  me  to  protect  him  ? 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Nonsense  !  we  were  making  a  little  business  ar 
rangement  ....  you  only  bother  us,  —  you  have 
n't  any  head  for  business,  Griffin,  —  you  're  too 
sentimental,  —  you  'd  better  go  away. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Yes,  and  it  's  precisely  that  delicacy  of  senti 
ment  that  Mr.  Carberry  admires  in  me.  I  hope  I 
do  my  duty  as  a  woman  and  a  citizen,  though  I 
have  n't  sunk  into  a  mere  business  hack,  without 
a  thought  beyond  money-making,  like  you,  Mrs. 
Badger. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Fiddle !  Why  don't  you  speak  up,  Carberry? — 
what  are  you  thinking  of? 

CARBERRY. 

Madam,  I  was  thinking  of  the  Kilkenny  cats, 
and  the  admirable  end  of  their  quarrel ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Barbara  Badger,  if  you  don't  go  directly  away, 
I  '11  impeach  you  at  the  next  Town  Meeting  for 
embezzlement  of  the  public  money. 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  63 

MRS.  BADGER. 
Well,  I  can't  stop  now  to  discuss  it.     I  '11  see 

you  by  and  by But  you  have  n't  a  chance, 

Griffin,  —  there  are  one  hundred  thousand  argu 
ments  against  you.  —  You  '//  see  which  way  he 
makes  up  his  mind  ! 

\Exit  MRS.  BADGER,  nodding  significantly. 

Miss   GRIFFIN. 

You  see,  my  dear  Mr.  Carberry,  that  it  is  abso 
lutely  necessary  we  should  be  married  immediately, 
or  you  would  be  exposed  to  this  sort  of  thing 
every  day.  I  think  we  had  better  say  to-morrow, 
—  and,  as  you  seem  to  fancy  a  showy  wedding, 
I  '11  send  word  directly  to  the  other  Selectwomen, 
and  the  School  Committee,  to  come  in  from  the 
Centre,  by  the  ten  o'clock  train,  and  walk  in  pro 
cession  with  us  to  the  church. 

[Exit  GRIFFIN 

CARBERRY. 
There  is  something  fatally  attractive  about  me ! 

Enter  VicroRlNE. 

VlCTORINE. 

Here  's  a  note  for  you,  Mr.  Carberry,  —  from  a 

lady.       {Handing  it  to  him.) 

CARBERRY. 

I  won't  read  it !  it  may  be  another.    (Tears  it  up.^ 

VlCTORINE. 

Another  what  ?     It  's   an   invitation   to   Mrs. 


64  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

Butterfly's  ball.      I  'm  going,  —  I  '11   take  you. 
....  What 's  the  matter  ?    Are  you  ill  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Miss  Wigfall,  I  'ra  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss,  — 
two  abysses  in  fact.  Your  aunt  intends  to  marry 
me. 

VlCTORINE. 

My  aunt !  You  're  joking !  Why,  she 's  a  great 
deal  older  than  you !  It  is  n't  possible  that  you 
....  care  for  my  aunt,  Mr.  Carberry  ? 

Enter  Miss  GRIFFIN,  who  listens  unpercnved. 

CARBERRY. 

Care  for  her  ?  I  'm  afraid  of  her  !  I  am  being 
dragged  like  a  lamb  to  the  altar!  I  said  all  I 
could,  —  I  repeated  every  excuse  that  I  remem 
bered  a  young  lady  made  ....  I  mean,  that  I 
thought  a  young  lady  would  make  in  such  a  case, 
but  it  was  no  use  !  —  no  use  ! 

VlCTORINE  (sighing. 

Oh !  how  I  wish  I  had  minded  mamma ! 

CARBERRY. 

I  arrived  here  yesterday,  so  •  innocent  and  so 
happy,  —  and  I  find  everything  upset  and  topsy 
turvy,  with  all  this  voting,  and  assessing,  and 
judging,  —  and  dreadful  old  maids  swooping  down 
upon  one,  like  hawks,  —  and  widows,  like  roaring 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  65 

lions !  .  .  .  .  You  alone  seem  to  me  an  innocent 
dove,  a  thousand  times  more  charming  by  contrast 
....  and  .  .  .  .  I  Ve  got  to  marry  somebody 
....  I  mean,  I  love  you  passionately  ....  only 
I  should  n't  have  told  you  so  for  months,  under 
happier  circumstances  ....  I  'm  a  shy  man 
naturally  ....  but  now  I  'm  goaded  to  despe 
ration  ! 

VlCTORlNE  (crying). 

O  !  Mr.  Carberry,  why  did  n't  you  say  so  sooner  ? 

CARBERRY. 

Sooner  !  I  had  n't  a  chance  !  I  'm  a  slow  man 
naturally, —  I  'm  not  used  to  these  railway  methods, 
—  and  how  could  I  ever  have  dreamed  that  your 
terrible  aunt  would  mark  me  for  her  own  ! 

(Here  Miss  GRIFFIN,  -who  has  heard  all  this,  darts  out  again 
unperceived.) 

VlCTORlNE. 

Well  (Sob),  perhaps  it 's  all  for  the  best !  .  .  .  . 
I  '11  try  and  take  an  interest  in  (Sob)  politics  .... 
and  forget  it  ....  but  (Sob)  I  shall  always  love 
you  .  ...  as  an  uncle ! 

Rf-enter  Miss  GRIFFIN,  with  two  pistols. 

Miss  GRIFFON  (to  CARBERRY). 
Traitor  !  which  will  you  have  ?     [VICTOR  INE  shrieks. 

CARBERRY. 
Neither,  thank  you. 


66  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

No  trifling,  traitor !     I  have  heard  all,  and  I 
demand  satisfaction. 

VlCTORINE. 

O  aunt !  please  don't  be  angry,  —  I  '11  give  him 
up! 

Miss    GRIFFIN. 

There  is  but  one  reparation  you  can  make  me, 
Mr.  Carberry,  —  take  your  choice. 

CARBERRY. 
They  have  got  over  being  afraid  of  pistols,  too ! 

VlCTORINE. 

O  aunt !  you  shall  have  him  indeed,  —  only  don't 
hurt  him. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

No   compromise  with   traitors !      (Sternly.)     Mr. 
Carberry,  are  you  a  gentleman  ? 

CARBERRY. 
No  !    Are  you  ? 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Man  !     Would  you  rather  be  hanged  ?     Don't 
you  know  Breach  of  Promise  is  a  capital  crime  ? 

VlCTORINE    (wringing  her  hands). 

And  the  Governess  will  never  pardon  you  ! 

CARBERRY. 
Well,  if  you  will  have  it  so,  I  '11  name  a  friend 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  67 

to  arrange  the  place  of  meeting.  (Aside.)  I  '11  take 
the  first  train  to  New  York. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Mr.  Carberry,  I  never  lose  time.  Seconds  and 
intermediaries  would  only  cause  delay.  This 
quarrel  is  between  you  and  me,  and  we  will  settle 
it  this  minute,  in  this  apartment,  without  any 
more  words.  Victorine,  have  the  goodness  to 
walk  twelve  paces,  taking  as  long  steps  as  you 
can. 

VICTORINE. 

I  sha'  n't !  I  won't !  I  '11  call  papa ! 

[Exit,  crying  "Papa!  Papal" 

(Miss  GRIFFIN  measures  the  distance  herself,  thrusts  one  of 
the  pistols  into  CARBERRY'S  hand,  and  takes  her  place). 

CARBERRY. 
I  wish  I  was  back  in  Shanghae  !  • 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
Now,   are  you   ready  ?     When   I   say  " three" 

....  (CARBERRY  covers  her  with  his  pistol.)  Mr.  Car- 
berry  !  put  that  weapon  down,  sir  1  ....  When 
I  say"t&ree"  .... 

CARBERRY. 
By  Jove  !   I  '11  kill  her  !      (Covers  her  again.} 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 

Will  you  observe  the  rules,  sir  ?  ....  When 
I  say  " three"  we  fire One,  —  Two  — 


68  THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

Enter  JUDGE,  followed  by  VICTORINE,  and  MR.  WIGFALL  carrying 
the  baby. 

JUDGE. 

I  arrest  you  both,  in  the  name  of  the  Common 
wealth  of  Massachusetts ! 

Miss  GRIFFIN.      • 

Susan,  why  could  n't  you  have  stayed  away  five 
minutes  longer ! 

JUDGE. 

Mr.  Wigfall,  I  appoint  you  Special  Constable  to 
secure  these  persons,  discovered  flagrante  delicto, 
in  the  very  act  of  breaking  the  peace  of  the 
Commonwealth. 

(MR.  WlGFALL  puts  the  baby  down  on  the  sofa,  and  takes  hold  of 
GRIFFIN.) 

• 

CARBERRY. 

I  thank  your  Honour  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart. 

JUDGE. 

Prisoners :  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  remind  you 
both,  that,  Whereas,  the  trial  by  wager  of  battle  has 
long  been  obsolete,  you  have  incurred  a  penalty  of 
twenty  years  in  the  State's  Prison,  for  duelling  in 
Massachusetts.  Wherefore,  as  guardian  of  the 
public  morals,  it  also  becomes  my  painful  duty  to 
send  at  once  for  the  proper  officers  of  justice,  that 
you  may  be  tried,  and  convicted  for  that  offence. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  69 

CARBERRY. 
Nothing  can  hurt  me  now. 

CARBERRY  and  GRIFFIN  stand  Right  and  Left  -with  folded  arms. 
VICTORINE, 

O  mamma !   forgive  them  this  once !     Punish 
^unt,  if  you  will  — 

CARBERRY. 
Yes,  punish  aunt ! 

VICTORINE. 

It  was  all  her  fault,  ....  but  don't  put  Mr. 
Carberry  in  prison  ! 

JUDGE. 
Child  !  he  has  violated  the  law. 

VICTORINE  (imploringly). 

But   no  one  will  ever  know,  if  we  don't  tell. 
Don't    say  anything    about    it,    that  's    a    dear 

mamma.       t 

JUDGE. 

And  my  own  conscience,  Victorine  ?     Forbear- 
I  am  incorruptible. 

MR.  WlGFALL. 

That 's  right,  my  dear,  —  Smite  'em  with  the 
Sword  of  Justice  ! 

VICTORINE  (aside  to  MR.  WIGFAU,). 
O  papa,  how  ca.n  VCH  te  s«  uukind  ?     I  thought 
you  were  on  our  side. 


yO  THE    SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX. 

MR.  WIGFALL  (aside  to  VICTORINE). 

Be  quiet,  child.  I  have  n't  lived  twenty  years 
with  your  mother  without  finding  out  that  the 
way  to  manage  her  is  to  give  her  her  head. 

JUDGE. 

Distressing  as  it  is  to  my  personal  feelings,  the 
Majesty  of  the  Law  must  be  vindicated. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Bully  for  you  !  Fiat  Justitia  !  Don't  let  'em 
off. 

JUDGE. 

Mr.  Wigfall !  in  this  momentous  crisis,  I  con 
sider  your  remarks  in  the  worst  possible  taste. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Why,  I  only  said  " Fiat  Justitia"  Does  n't  the 
learned  Judge  know  what  that  means  ? 

JUDGE.  » 

Silence,  Constable  !  —  As  I  said  before,  I  stand 
here  clothed  in  the  Panoply  of  Justice,  resolved 
to  steel  my  heart,  and  execute  the  Law,  —  cost 
what  it  may. 

MR.  WIGFALL. 

Off  with  their  heads !  Ruat  Ccelum !  Be  a 
Spartan  Mother !  Be  a  Roman  Father ! 

JUDGE. 
Silence  ! 


THE   SPIRIT   OF   SEVENTY-SIX.  Jl 

MR.    WIGFALL. 

Remember  Brutus  !  Three  cheers  for  the  Bos 
ton  Brutus  !  Hip,  Hip  .... 

JUDGE  (exploding). 

Mr.  Wigfall,  you  are  perfectly  unbearable !  I 
don't  care  one  pin  for  Brutus,  and  I  will  let  them 
off,  — just  to  spite  you,  —  and  to  show  you  that  I 
am  independent  of  your  sneers  and  innuendoes! 
Wolverine,  I  am  thoroughly  ashamed  of  yoti,  — 
but  this  once  I  will  overlook  it,  on  condition  that 
you  never  have  anything  more  to  do  with  any 
man  — or  men  —  whomsoever.  Victorine,  if  you 
laugh,  I  '11  commit  you  for  contempt. 

VICTORINE. 

O  you  dear  little  mamma !  I  knew  you  'd  stop 
being  an  upright  Judge,  and  turn  out  my  own 

kind   little    mamma   at   last.      (Kisses  her  enthusiastically. 
JUDGE  -waves  her  off.) 

JUDGE. 

As  for  you,  Mr.  Carberry,  I  request  you  to  inform 
the  Court,  whether  you  sincerely  wish  to  marry 
my  daughter. 

CARBERRY. 

Most  assuredly  I  do,  —  I  declare  it  before  your 
Honour  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  —  Is  that 
enough  ?  Are  we  married  now  ?  Are  you  my 
mother-m-taw  ? 

JUDGE. 

No.  You  may  have  your  "proper  wedding," 


72  THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX. 

and  be  six  months  about  it.  —  Here,  Victorine,  take 
him,  he 's  yours.  Be  firm  with  him  from  the  first, 
and  perhaps  you  may  be  happy.  When  you  want 
a  divorce,  petition  me,  while  you  are  yet  in  my 
jurisdiction.  But  don't  delay  too  long,  for  at 
no  distant  day,  the  nation  will  rise,  like  One 
Woman,  to  turn  out  the  man,  Chase,  and  you  will 
see  ME  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States. 

[Retires  majestically,  followed  by  MR.  WlGFALL,  to  the  back  of  the 
stage. 

CARBERRY  (to  Miss  GRIFFIN). 

Madam,  I  hope  you  will  forget  the  past,  and 
believe  me,  I  shall  always  regard  you  as  a  friend. 

Miss  GRIFFIN. 
Man,  don't  speak  to  me. 

Enter  MRS.  BADGER. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

There,  Griffin,  I  told  you  so !  You  see  he  has 
made  up  his  mind  — 

CARBERRY. 

Yes,  to  marry  Miss  Wigfall.  So  you  and  your 
tax  may  go  to  Jericho!  (Aside  to  MRS.  BADGER.)  If 
you  tell  of  me,  I  '11  tell  of  you,  but  (Aloud],  believe 
me,  madam,  I  shall  always  regard  you  as  a  friend. 

MRS.  BADGER. 

Griffin,  we  're  both  jilted  !  Shall  we  go  and 
drown  ourselves  in  the  Chestnut  Hill  Reservoir  ? 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    SEVENTY-SIX.  73 

Miss    GRIFFIN. 

For  a  Man  ?  No,  Badger,  —  we  are  States- 
women  and  Patriots.  Let  us  rather  renounce 
mankind  and  live  for  ourselves,  —  marching  in 
the  Van  of  the  great  Feminine  Army  of  Progress, 
onward  and  upward  forever !  And  when  our 
mission  is  accomplished,  and  Woman  of  every 
colour,  size,  and  shape  reigns  supreme  from  Pole 
to  Pole,  —  then  shall  the  names  of  Griffin  and 
Badger  be  transmitted  to  future  generations,  as 
great  and  glorious  examples  of  the  new  SPIRIT 
OF  SEVENTY-SIX  ! 

Curtain  falls. 


JUDGE'S  CHARGE. 
Addressed  to  the  Audience. 

Mrs.  Forewoman,  and  Ladies  of  the  Jury :  You 
have  now  heard  the  facts,  and  it  remains  for  you 
to  find  accordingly,  divesting  yourselves,  as  far  as 
possible,  of  all  individual  bias,  either  for  or  against 
the  defendant,  —  MAN,  —  and  this  Court  will 
protect  you  in  the  performance  of  your  duty. — 
The  proper  officer  will  now  conduct  the  Jury  to 
their  room,  and  provide  them  with  suitable  re 
freshment 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE 


CAPTAIN  DASHWOOD. 

TARBOX. 

FLORA  FAYAWAY  (i& years). 

Miss  PRIM  (her  companion, 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 


SCENE    I. 

Florets  Drawing-room.  —  Flora  seated,  absorbed  in 
reading  a  letter.  —  Enter  Miss  Prim. 

PRIM. 

Miss  FLORA  !  the  cook  has  given  warning !  Says 
she  wants  a  wider  range,  and  means  to  try  Cali 
fornia  ! 

FLORA. 

Oh,  Miss  Prim,  don't  trouble  me  about  cooks 
now. 

PRIM  (excited}. 

But  what  are  we  to  do  ? 

FLORA. 

Oh,  do  without  eating !  To-day,  of  all  days,  I 
don't  want  to  be  worried. 

PRIM. 
Why,  is  it  to-day  that  you  expect  Mr.  Tarbox  ? 

FLORA. 

Yes  ;  but  I  wish,  Miss  Prim,  you  would  n't  pro 
nounce  his  name  that  way.  Can't  you  say  "  Mr. 
Tarbox  "  softly  ?  —  it  sounds  much  prettier. 


8O  A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 

PRIM  (sitting  down  to  her  sewing). 

Well,  it  is  n't  a  very  pretty  name  anyway. 
However,  I  '11  try.  By  what  train  do  you  antici 
pate  Mr.  Ta-arbox  ? 

FLORA. 

His  letter  did  n't  say.  O  !  Miss  Prim,  how  lit 
tle  I  thought,  when,  just  -for  fun,  I  pinned  my 
name  and  address  on  a  pair  of  blue  woollen  socks 
for  the  Sanitary,  —  how  little  I  thought  that  my 
fate  was  rolled  up  in  them  ! 

PRIM. 

Yes,  it 's  fortunate  that  such  a  delightful  person 
as  you  say  Mr.  Tarbox  is,  should  have  been  the 
one  to  get  them.  He  wrote  to  you  at  once,  did  n't 

he? 

FLORA. 

O  yes  !  I  never  shall  forget  my  feelings  when  I 
received  his  first  letter,  —  dated  Camp  Stanton. 
I  could  n't  help  answering,  —  it  was  so  touching. 
That  was  three  months  ago,  and  we  have* corre 
sponded  ever  since  ! 

PRIM. 

It 's  strange  what  luck  young  girls  always  have 
in  such  matters,  to  be  sure  !  It  shows  what  fools 
men  are.  They  overlook  women  of  matured 
mind  and  experience,  —  to  run  after  any  chit  of 
a  girl, — just  because  she  has  a  pretty  face  ! 

FLORA. 

Well,  Miss  Prim,  he  did  n't  run  after  my  face, 
for  you  know  he  has  never  seen  it. 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  8 1 

PRIM. 

No,  and  for  my  part,  I  think  it  very  doubtful 
how  such  a  match  will  turn  out.  Do  you  know 
anything  of  his  position,  or  antecedents  ? 

FLORA. 

No,  nothing,  —  and  that's  just  what  makes  our 
engagement  so  delightfully  odd  and  romantic.  We 
know  each  other  only  through  our  letters,  —  and 
O  !  Miss  Prim,  he  does  write  such  lovely  letters. 
Did  you  ever  have  any  love-letters,  Miss  Prim  ? 

PRIM. 

Ahem,  —  no.  It  so  happened  that  every  one  of 
my  admirers  offered  himself  by  word  of  mouth,  — 
and  was  rejected  immediately. 

FLORA. 
What  a  pity ! 

PRIM. 

And  have  n't  you  told  this  Mr.  Tarbox  anything 
about  your  social  position  either  ?  Does  he  think 
it  "  delightfully  odd  and  romantic "  to  be  kept  in 
the  dark,  —  or  does  he  know  that  you  are  an 
orphan,  and  your  own  mistress  ? 

FLORA. 

I  told  him  nothing  whatever.  (Aside.)  I  wanted 
him  to  love  me  for  myself. 

PRIM. 

Are  you  quite  sure  he  is  not  aware  that  you  are 
nth?  ' 

4*  F 


82  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

FLORA. 

Oh,  Miss  Prim,  you  don't  suppose  I  wrote  about 
such  things  as  money  ?  Besides,  I  had  n't  room. 
I  never  wrote  more  than  six  or  eight  pages  crossed, 
at  a  time. 

PRIM. 

He  's  nothing  but  a  private,  is  he  ? 

FLORA  (-with  enthusiasm). 

No,  and  that 's  all  the  more  noble  in  him  .  Not 
to  wait  to  be  made  Major-General,  or  Commander- 
in-Chief,  as  I  know  he  deserves,  but  to  volunteer  at 
once  to  defend  his  country,  even  in  the  ranks  ! 
I  Ve  not  the .  least  doubt  that  he  left  a  princely 
home,  adorned  with  everything  that  makes  life 
beautiful,  at  his  country's  call !  When  I  think 
of  such  devotion,  my  heart  beats,  —  my  cheeks 
burn  — 

PRIM. 

Hoity-toity !  you  never  made  all  this  fuss  when 
your  cousin  Captain  Dashwood  volunteered  ! 

FLORA. 

Oh,  that  was  different.  There  is  no  sentiment 
or  romance  about  Fred.  He  just  went  off  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  because  he  said  it  was  his 
duty,  —  he  never  talked  about  his  feelings,  and 
treated  the  whole  thing  as  a  matter  of  course. 

PRIM. 

There  I  quite  agree  with  you.  I  always  thought 
Captain  Dashwood  a  disagreeable,  conceited  young 
man. 


A    CHANGE    OF   BASE.  83 

FLORA.  • 

O,  Miss  Prim,  he  is  not !     How  can  you  say  so  I 

PRIM  (rising). 

Well,  Miss  Fayaway,  I  sincerely  hope  you  may 
be  happy.  But  if  you  want  my  candid  opinion,  I 
think  you  would  be  more  sensible,  if  you  were  not 
in  such  a  hurry,  but  were  to  wait  till  you  are 
forty  or  forty-five  years  of  age,  and  have  some 
experience,  before  you  think  of  matrimony  ! 

[Exit. 
FLORA  (alone). 

How  disagreeable  Miss  Prim  is  sometimes,  to  be 
sure !  She  always  seems  annoyed  when  she  hears 
of  any  one  going  to  be  married.  And  asking  such 
tiresome  questions  too,  —  about  "money"  and  "po 
sition"  and  "antecedents"  —  things  that  are  not  of 
the  slightest  consequence  !  Ah  !  there  'd  be  no 
need  of  asking  that,  if  she  had  ever  seen  one  of 
his  dear  letters!  (Takes  out  letter  and  reads.)  "When 
your  lovely  image  floats  before  the  mind's  eye  of 
your  adorer,  he  feels  that  for  the  unspeakable  bliss 
of  your  smile,  he  would  gladly  sacrifice  his  life !  "- 
Any  one  could  see  at  once  that  this  was  written 
by  a  person  of  the  most  exquisite  refinement  of 
feeling,  with  the  fire  and  imagination  of  a  poet ! 
Now  I  'm  very  fond  of  my  cousin  Fred,  and  he  of 
me,  —  but  he  never  wrote  me  such  a  letter  as  that- 

(Kisses  letter  and  puts  it  near  her  heat  t  \  I  should  be  per 
fectly  happy  if  it  were  not  for  his  name  !  How  I 
do  wish  it  was  n't  Tarbox !  But  then  I  've  no 


84  A    CHANGE   OF    BASE. 

doubt  he  has  a  lovely  Christian  name,  —  one 
suited  to  his  noble  self,  —  and  of  course  I  shall 
calf  him  by  that.  He  always  signs  "  H.  J.  Tar- 
box,"  —  H  stands  for  Herbert,  —  O  !  I  hope  it  's 
Herbert!  —  I  know  it 's  Herbert !  (Bell rings.)  Hark! 
there  's  a  ring  !  Perhaps  it 's  he  !  How  my  heart 
beats  !  (Flies  to  the  window)  Oh  no  !  —  it 's  not  Her 
bert,  —  it  's  a  very  common-looking  person,  —  an 
express-man,  I  should  say. 

Enter  TARBOX,  in  private"1*  uniform,  -with  light  blue  overcoat^  very 
shabby. 

TARBOX. 

Mornin'  marm.  I  want  to  see  Miss  Flora  Fay- 
away. 

FLORA  (coldly). 

I  am  Miss  Fayaway. 

TARBOX. 

Be  ye  ?  Jerewsalem  !  I  'd  no  notion  you  was 
sich  a  highflyer.  Wai,  my  lovely  gal,  here  's  your 
soldier,  tired  of  war's  alarms. 

FLORA. 
What  —  what  do  you  mean  ? 

TARBOX. 

Mean?  Why,  ain't  I  the  feller  you  Ve  been 
writing  to,  these  three  months  ?  My  name  's 
Hezekiah  J.  Tarbox,  at  yer  sarvice  ;  come  back 
to  marry  you,  accordin'  to  agreement. 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  8") 

FLORA  (aside). 

O  Heaven:. !  what  shall  I  do  ?  Engaged  to  this 
horrid  creature  !  It 's  impossible !  I  don't  believe 
it !  (Aloud.)  Sir,  I  am  sure  there  must  be  some 
mistake. 

TARBOX. 

Mistake  ?  Not  a  mite.  Did  n't  you  jest  tell 
me  you  was  Miss  Fayaway  ? 

FLORA. 

It 's  quite  impossible  that  you  ever  wrote  those 
letters.  You  don't  sound  like  them  ! 

TARBOX. 

Lord  bless  you,  you  don't  suppose  I  got  all  that 
stuff  out  of  my  own  head,  do  yer  ?  I  bought  a 
"  Complete  Letter-writer,"  price  62^  cents,  second 
hand,  and  copied  off  the  love-letters  in  reg'lar 
succession.  I  've  got  it  in  my  pocket  now.  Like 

to    See    it  ?      (Takes  out  shabby  book  and  turns  over  leaves.) 

Let 's  see  ....  No.  6  ....  that 's  called  "  For 
mal  Declaration,"  —  after  that,  they  keep  pilin'  up 
the  agony,  don't  they  ?  There,  here  's  the  last 
one  I  copied.  (Reads.)  "  When  your  lovely  image 
floats  before  the  mind's  eye  of  your  adorer,"  — 
and  a  lot  more. 

FLORA  (aside,  tearing  the  letter  from  her  heart). 

The    very    letter    I    was    kissing    just    now  ! 

f  Flings  it  in  the  fire. ) 


86  A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 

TARBOX. 

It  's  pretty  lucky  I  got  my  discharge  when  I 
did,  for  I  'd  got  as  far  as  No.  1 1,  —  and  there 's  only 
thirteen  on  'em.  Wai,  we  Ve  done  with  all  that 
•  rubbish  now.  —  (Looks  around.)  Fixed  up  pretty  slick 
here.  Pictures,  —  pianner-forty.  —  Where  are  the 
old  folks  ? 

FLORA. 
The  old  folks  ? 

TARBOX. 

Yes,  —  yer  father  and  mother. 

FLORA. 
I  am  an  orphan,  sir.     I  am  alone  in  the  world. 

TARBOX  (sitting  down). 

Dutell! 

FLORA  (standing). 

And  you,  —  where  is  your  home  ? 

TARBOX. 

I  reside  in  Skowhegan,  Maine.  I  Ve  got  a 
little  farm  down  there.  Pray,  miss,  air  you  ac 
quainted  with  butter  and  cheese  making  ? 

FLORA. 
No,  sir,  I  am  not. 

TARBOX. 
£)'  ye  understand  fattenin'  pigs  ? 

FLORA. 

No,  indeed  I  do  not,  Mr.  Tarbox,  and  I  am 
surprised  at  your  asking  such  a  question  ! 


A    CHANGE   OF    BASE.  8/ 

TARBOX. 

Wai,  what  can  ye  do  then  ?  What  d'  ye  'stow 
yer  time  on  ?  Can't  yer  do  no  kind  o'  work  ? 

FLORA. 
Certainly,  crochet  and  worsted  work. 

TARBOX. 
Wai,  what  else  ? 

FLORA. 

Oh,  I  play  and  sing,  and  make  calls,  and  play 
croquet,  and  in  the  evening  I  go  to  the  Opera, 
unless  there  is  a  party. 

TARBOX. 

We  don't  do  none  o'  them  things  down  to  Skow- 
hegan. 

FLORA. 

No,  of  course  there  are  no  amusements  in  such 
a  place  as  that ! 

TARBOX. 

I  bet  you  !  In  winter  we  have  quiltin'  frolics, — 
and  spring  and  fall  there  's  maple-candy  scrapes, 
and  parin'  bees, — and  we  go  to  meetin'  all  the  year 
raound. 

Enter  Miss  PRIM. 

FLORA  (confused}. 
My  friend,  Miss  Prim,  —  Miss  Prim,  this  is  Mr.  — 

TARBOX. 

Tarbox,  marm.     Hezekiah  J.,  at  your  sarvice. 


88  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

PRIM  (surprised). 

Indeed  !  I  hope  I  see  you  well,  sir.  You  have 
lately  returned  from  the  army,  I  believe  ?  {Sits  down 

near  TARBOX  ;   FLORA  sinks  into  a  chair  behind  them. 

TARBOX. 

Yes  marm.  I  got  kinder  rheumaticky  down 
there  to  Washington  City,  —  all  doubled  up,  and 
the  Surgeon  of  our  Regiment  said  I  warn't  no 
good,  anyway,  and  might  as  well  come  home. 

PRIM. 

We  girls  feel  a  deep  interest  in  our  brave 
defenders.  Tell  us  of  your  sufferings. 

TARBOX. 

Wai,  marm,  I  was  orfle  sea-sick  on  the  Sound, 
both  goin'  and  comin'. 

PRIM. 
X)h,  I  didn't  mean  that.     I  meant  your  dangers. 

TARBOX. 

Wai,  twice  I  come  plaguy  near  shootin'  myself 
with  my  own  gun. 

FLORA  (aside). 

I  wish  he  had  ! 

PRIM. 

I  did  n't  mean  that,  either.  Tell  us  of  the  camp, 
—  the  midnight  attack,  and  the  hand-to-hand  con 
flict ! 


A   CHANGE   OF   BASE.  89 

TARBOX. 

Wai,  as  fur  the  camp,  I  d'  know  as  I  did  more 
nor  cook  my  vittals,  —  and  poor  enough  they  was, 
—  if  it  had  n't  a  been  for  the  sutler's  pies,  I  should 
ha'  been  a'most  starved.  And  when  I  was  n't 
eatin'  them,  I  was  whittling  or  playin'  checkers  or 
dominos  with  the  fellers,  —  leastways  when  we 
was  thru'  with  that  air  darned  drillin'. 

PRIM. 
But  the  battles  ?  —  the  deeds  of  arms  ? 

TARBOX. 

Can't  tell  ye  nothin'  about  them.  I  got  took 
down  with  the  rheumatiz,  and  left, — jest  as  the 
fightin'  was  goin'  to  begin.  I  had  the  luck  on  't, 
I  tell  you  ! 

FLORA  (starting  «/). 

What !  were  you  not  disappointed  to  be  denied 
the  opportunity  to  fight  for  your  country,  after  you 
had  volunteered  in  her  defence  ? 

TARBOX. 

O  bless  you,  marm,  I  did  n't  volunteer,  —  I  was 
drafted.  I  wish  to  blazes  now,  I  had  a-volun- 
teered,  and  got  the  baounty  ! 

FLORA. 
All  my  illusions  dispelled  ! 

TARBOX. 
Tell  ye  all  abaout  it.    The  all-firedest  mean  biz- 


9O  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

ness  aout.  The  day  they  drafted,  I  was  down  to 
the  ingine-house,  along  with  Elnathan  P.  Sawyer, 
and  a  lot  more  Independent  Odd-Fellows.  Elna 
than,  sez  he,  "  Tarbox,  I  bet  you  '11  git  stuck."  He 
had  n't  more  'n  got  the  words  out  of  his  maouth, 
when  Quincy  Titcomb,  that  stutters,  came  runnin' 
up.  "  Hearn  the  news  ?  the  list 's  aout !  "  "  Who 
be  they  ? "  sez  all  hands.  Quincy  could  n't  git  aout 
the  fust  word.  "  Who  be  they  ?  "  roars  the  crowd. 
Quincy  made  the  orfullest  faces,  and  Royal  Mar 
ble,  he  took  him  by  the  collar  as  if  he  'd  shake  it 
out  of  him.  "  Tell  us  who  they  be,"  sez  he.  Quin 
cy  was  corked  as  tight  as  a  ginger-beer  bottle,  but 
he  pinted  his  finger  straight  at  me.  Gosh !  how 
they  all  screeched  and  screamed  (except  me). 
"Naow,"  sez  I,  "Gen'lemen  feller-citizens,  look 
a-here,  I  've  got  conscientious,  Constitootional 
scruples  (a  larf),  and  a  very  aged  aunt  (roars), 
besides  fits  (yells).  I  don't  back  aout  from  May 
trainins,  nor  Cornwallises,  nor  I  ain't  afraid  to 
swab  aout  our  cannon  arter  she 's  ben  tetched  off, 
— but,  as  to  flyin'  in  the  face  of  Providence,  loaded 
with  ball-catridge,  Congress  hain't  no  title  to  send 
for  me.  There 's  a  higher  law  agin  it.  'T  ain't 
right ! "  No  use !  I  could  n't  squirm  aout,  no 
way,  nor  shape,  and  was  baound  to  go.  So  I 
went,  —  and  that 's  how  't  was. 

[  Takes  out  a  pipe  and  fills  it. 

PRIM. 
How  interesting ! 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  9! 

FLORA. 
How  intolerable  ! 

PRIM. 

Well,  Mr.  Tarbox,  it 's  a  mercy  you  escaped 
with  your  life.  /  consider  that  rheumatism  a  dis 
pensation  of  Providence ! 

FLORA  (seeing  TARBOX  light  his  pipe). 
Oh,  that  is  too  much  !     Sir,  —  Mr.  Tarbox !     I 
cannot  possibly  have  you  smoke  pipes  here.     The 
smell  of  tobacco  makes  me  very  ill ! 

TARBOX. 

Oh  bother !  'T  ain't  no  kinder  use  for  you  to  cut 
up  rough  about  my  pipe.  You  must  git  wonted 
to  it,  and  the  sooner  the  better. 

FLORA. 

Sir,  if  you  have  no  respect  for  a  lady,  the  sooner 
you  leave  this  house  the  better ! 

TARBOX. 

Wai,  wal,  don't  git  so  riled.  I  'd  just  as  lives  go 
out  and  smoke  a  spell,  to  please  ye,  if  ye  're  so 
tarnation  squeamish. 

PRIM  (rising). 

This  way,  sir,  —  allow  me,  —  I  'm  sorry  Miss 
Fayaway  is  so  particular,  —  /  adore  tobacco  ! 

{Exeunt  PKIM  and  TARBOX.   * 

FLORA  (alone). 

O  !  unhappy  girl  that  I  am !  My  whole  life 
sacrificed  by  one  silly  and  imprudent  step !  I 


92  A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 

expected  some  one  just  like  the  Heir  of  Redclyffe, 
and  I  find  myself  bound  by  the  most  solemn 
promises  to  this  odious  Down-East  farmer !  And 
those  hateful  letters  ....  copied  out  of  that  hate 
ful  book!  (Flings  book  down.)  What  humiliation!  I 
shall  die  of  it,  —  I  hope  I  may !  How  could  I 
ever  have  written  to  him !  How  unladylike,  — 
how  ridiculous  my  conduct  has  been  !  I  have  been 
living  for  months  in  a  cloud,  —  a  mist  of  illusion, 
—  and  now  it  has  cleared  away,  and  I  see  my 
miserable  folly  in  its  true  light !  Ah !  if  I  had 
had  a  mother,  —  a  father,  —  any  one  to  advise  me, 
this  never  could  have  happened.  But  I  am  all 

alone  !     (Cries.) 

Servant  brings  in  a  letter. 

A  letter  from  my  cousin  Fred.  O !  what  will 
he  say  when  he  hears  of  this  ?  Dear  Fred,  how 
fond  he  always  was  of  me  !  And  he  did  give  up  all 
for  the  war  ;  —  he  is  really  a  hero  ....  and  a 
gentleman,  too  !  Strange  I  never  thought  of  Fred 
before.  But  the  truth  is,  when  he's  your  cousin, 
and  you  Ve  known  him  all  your  life,  you  don't 
think  of  Fred.  (Reads.)  "  Dearest  cousin.  You 
will  see  me  very  soon  after  receiving  this.  We 
had  rather  sharp  work  with  the  Rebels,  the  other 
day,  and  I  was  slightly  wounded,  but  it  is  noth 
ing  of  consequence,  so  don't  be  frightened.  Our 
Colonel  insists  on  my  having  ten  days'  furlough, 
however.  I  thought  you  might  see  it  in  the  pa 
pers,  so  I  write  myself  to  let  you  know  I  am  all 
right,  and  coming.  Yours  ever,  Frederick  Dash- 
wood." 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  93 

Wounded  !  and  I  never  knew  it !  And  he  does 
n't  tell  me  how !  O  !  where  is  the  paper !  (Finds 

newspaper  and  reads.} 

"  Attack  of  the  Rebels  on  our  troops.  Gallant 
conduct  of  Capt.  Dashwood  of  the  Mass.  I44th. 
The  Rebels  attacked  one  of  our  redoubts  last 
Tuesday,  but  were  repulsed  with  great  loss.  Capt. 
Dashwood,  of  the  Mass.  I44th,  distinguished  him 
self  by  one  of  the  most  heroic  actions  of  the  war. 
The  flag,  which  floated  over  the  redoubt,  suddenly 
fell  to  the  ground  outside,  its  staff  cut  by  a  ball. 
A  shout  of  triumph  rose  from  the  Rebel  ranks  as 
the  banner  disappeared,  for  they  thought  it  to  be 
the  signal  of  submission.  The  next  moment,  Capt. 
Dashwood  leaped  from  the  parapet,  and,  amid  a 
perfect  storm  of  shot  and  shell,  walked  deliberately 
the  whole  length  of  the  fort,  picked  up  the  flag, 
mounted  the  bastion,  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
again  floated  proudly  on  the  breeze  !  Capt.  Dash- 
wood  escaped  by  a  miracle  with  only  a  slight 
wound  in  the  arm.  His  country  may  well  be 
proud  of  such  a  gallant  son  ! " 

How  brave  !  how  noble  !  —  and  1  never  appre 
ciated  him  !  This  story  of  his  devotion  has  been 
read  to-day  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land,  —  and  every  voice  is  praising  him,  —  every 
voice  but  mine !  Every  woman  in  the  country 
knows  he  is  a  hero  ....  and  /  am  the  last  to 
find  it  out !  And  now  he  is  coming  back,  —  and 
1  see  it  all,  —  too  late,  —  too  late  ! 

[Bursts  into  tears,  and  exit. 


94  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 


SCENE    II. 

Enter  Captain  Dashwood,  in  uniform,  with  his  left  arm 
in  a  sling. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Here  I  am  back  again  in  the  old  house !  A 
week  of  home  is  n't  bad  after  a  year  of  campaign 
ing.  Rather  a  cool  welcome  old  Prim  gave  me 
just  now.  She  seemed  so  taken  up  with  that  sol 
dier,  she  scarcely  looked  at  me.  I  wonder  whether 
Flora  will  be  glad  to  see  me !  Ah !  If  she  only 
knew  how  often  the  hope  of  seeing  her  again  has 
cheered  me  up,  down  there  in  Virginia ! 

SONG. 

NEAPOLITAN  AIR,  —  "Sul  mare  lucida."  —  Santa.  Lucia. 

Far,  far  from  home,  love, 

By  the  dark  river, 
Where  flows  Potomac 

Silently  ever,  — 
In  the  deep  midnight, 
By  the  camp  firelight, 
Ah  !  Cousin  Flora  !  I  'm  thinking  of  you  ' 

When  o'er  the  battle-field 

Night-shadows  close,  love, 
And  pale  stars  are  watching 

The  soldier's  repose,  love. 
When  for  his  comfort  come 
.Sweet  dreams  of  friends  and  home, 
Thf.ii,  dearest  Flora,  I  'm  dreaming  of  you  ! 

When  to  your  home,  love, 
Come  from  afar, 


A    CHANGE   OF  BASE.  95 

Borne  on  the  southwind, 

The  echoes  of  war, 
Does  memory  then  portray 
Him  who  's  so  far  away  ? 
Then,  dearest  Flora,  do  you  think  of  me  ? 

Enter  FLORA. 

Well,  Cousin  Flora,  here  I  am ! 

FLORA. 

O  Fred!  —  dear  Fred,  —  how  thankful  I  am 
you  are  safe !  but  your  arm  .  .  .  .  O !  how  grieved 
I  am! 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Oh,  it  is  nothing,  —  nothing  at  all !  Did  you 
expect  me  ?  You  got  my  letter  ? 

FLORA. 

Yes,  just  now  ....  I  have  only  this  instant 
read  the  account  in  the  paper  of  your  noble  con 
duct  !  O  Fred  !  how  bravely,  —  how  gloriously 
you  behaved ! 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Nonsense  !  I  only  did  my  duty.  Every  soldier 
wou.d  have  done  the  same.  But  I  'm  glad  you 
think  well  of  me,  darling  cousin.  My  last  thought, 
Flora,  before  going  into  action,  —  my  last  thought 
was  of  you  ! 

FLORA  (much,  moved). 

Dear  Fred  !  . 


96  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Why,  Flora,  I  hardly  thought  you  cared  so 
much  for  me 

FLORA. 

Oh,  even  when  I  see  you  safe  before  me  now,  I 
tremble  when  I  remember  the  frightful  risk  you  ran, 
and  think  how  soon  you  must  go  back ! 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Well,  Flora,  we  must  all  risk  something  for  the 
dear  old  flag,  and  I  'm  sure  the  women  do  as  much 
as  the  men.  If  we  live,  we  shall  have  a  country 
worth  living  for,  —  and  if  we  die,  we  shall  not  die 

in  vain But  come,  come^  you  must  n't  cry, 

now  I  Ve  come  back.     Tell  me  about  yourself. 
How  is  my  darling  cousin  ?     Not  married  yet,  eh  ? 

FLORA. 
No,  no,  —  not  yet. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

By  the  way,  who  was  that  queer-looking  fellow 
I  met  just  now  on  your  door-step  ?  Old  Prim 
seemed  to  be  showing  him  out,  and,  —  would  you 
believe  it,  she  was  actually  lighting  his  pipe  for 
him ! !  She  always  made  fuss  enough  when  I 
smoked  a  cigar !  Old  Prim  has  n't  picked  up  an 
admirer,  has  she  ? 

FLORA. 

I  don't  know,  —  I  wish  she  had ! 


A.    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  97 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 
But  who  is  the  fellow  ? 

FLORA. 

His  name  is  Tarbox,  —  he  was  in  a  Maine  regi 
ment,  —  never  mind  about  him  now. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Well,  I  don't  think  old  Prim  ought  to  inflict  her 
seedy  friends  on  you.     A  common-looking  fellow  ! 

—  he   might  walk  off  with   something,  —  ladies 
can't  be   too   careful !     But   come,   put  on  your 
things,  Flora,  and  let  us  take  a  walk  before  sunset. 

[Exit  FLORA. 

And  now  I  mean  to  try  my  fate.     I  've  loved 
my  cousin  all  my  life,  and  she  received  me  so  well 

—  she  showed  so  much  emotion,  —  I  almost  think 
she  cares  for  me  after  all !     By  Jove,  how  happy  I 
feel !     (Drums  heard  outside.)     Hollo  !  there  's  a  regi 
ment  passing  !       (Throws  up  the  -window,  and  cheers  loudly 

How  the  drum-beat  carries  me  back  !  By  Jove  ; 
what  an  exciting  life  it  is,  when  you  are  in  for  it ! 
If  it  were  not  for  Flora,  I  should  feel  impatient 
now.  The  sound  of  that  drum  makes  me  long  to 
be  off  again  ! 

SONG. 

AIR, —  "Rataplan,"  in  La  Fille  du  Regiment    Drum  accomfanimtnt. 

Now  arm,  boys,  arm, 

Hear  the  bugle's  alarm 
With  the  trumpet's  war-note  blend  ! 

They  call  us  to  fight 

For  our  flag,  and  the  right,  — 
And  may  Heaven  the  right  defend  ! 

5  G 


98  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

Hear  the  roll  of  the  drum,  — 

Be  ready,  —  they  come,  — 
And  the  bullets  pour  in  like  rain. 

But  firm  as  a  rock, 

Our  men  bear  the  shock, 
And  the  enemy's  valour  is  vain. 

Then  hurrah,  boys,  hurrah, 

For  each  silvery  star 
That  shines  in  the  dark  blue  field  I 

By  land  or  by  sea, 

For  the  flag  of  the  free, 
We  can  die,  —  but  we  never  can  yield  I 

Double-quick!  Forward  march ! 

Charge  bayonets  !  Charge  ! 
See  the  gleam  of  the  glittering  steel ! 

As  we  charge  with  the  cry, 

"  We  will  conquer  or  die  !  " 
The  Rebel  ranks  quiver  and  reel  1 

To  the  roll  of  the  drum, 

Like  a  whirlwind  we  come,  — 
And  we  charge  them  again,  and  again,— 

And  we  scatter  them  fast, 

As  the  northern  blast 
Scatters  leaves  on  the  autumn  plain. 

Then  hurrah,  boys,  hurrah, 

For  each  silvery  star 
That  shines  in  the  dark  blue  field ! 

By  land  or  by  sea, 

For  the  flag  of  the  free 
We  can  die,  —  but  we  never  can  yield  I 

Enter  TARBOX. 

Why,  here  's  that  confounded  Yankee  again.     I 
wonder  what  business  he  has  here  ! 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  99 

TARBOX. 

Good  day,  sir.  In  the  army,  I  see.  (CAPP.  bows 
ttiffly.)  Wownded,  eh  ?  Ticklish  kinder  trade,  ain't 
it  ?  Friend  o'  the  family,  I  presume  ? 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 
I  am,  sir. 

TARBOX. 

Then  I  s'pose  ye  know  I  'm  about  to  become 
one  on  ye  ? 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD  (aside). 

Then  he  is  engaged  to  old  Prim.  (Aloud.)  Yes, 
so  I  understood. 

TARBOX. 

She  's  pooty,  certainly,  —  don't  ye  think  so  ? 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD  (aside). 

Pretty  !    Old  Prim  !  !  •  Good  Heavens  !  '.  ]  . 
Beauty  is  a  matter  of  taste,  Tarbox. 

TARBOX. 

Still,  come  to  think  on  't,  I  hardly  think  she  'd 
do  for  me.  I  d'  know  as  she  would,  and  I  d'  know 
as  she  would.  I  've  a  good  mind  to  try  a  Change 
of  Base,  as  they  say  in  the  army,  and  make  up  to 
the  other  one. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD  (aside). 

The  other  one  ?  Flora  ?  What  impertinence  ! 
(Aloud.)  Sir,  I  beg  you  not  to  allude  to  my  cousin 
in  that  manner. 


IOO  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

TARBOX. 

0  !  I  did  n't  know  you  was  related.     Wai,  sir, 
she 's  a  sensible  woman,  though  she  is  your  cousin. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

1  have  no  right  to  interfere  with  Miss  Prim's 
friends,  sir,  but  I  must  request  that  you  abstain 
from  annoying  Miss  Fayaway  in  any  manner,  — 
or  I  shall  be  obliged  to  give  you  a  lesson  ! 

TARBOX. 

Whew !  You  're  pretty  cocky,  ain't  ye  ?  Don't 
see  any  need  of  gittin'  yer  dander  up  that  way. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Come,  sir,  enough  of  this,  or  I  shall  lose  my 
patience  ! 

TARBOX. 

S'pose,  'cos  you  Ve  got  them  shoulder-straps,  and 
call  yerself  a  Lootenant  or  a  Capting,  you  think 
ye  're  some  pun'kins,  don't  ye  ? 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD  (collaring  him). 

What  do  you  mean,  you  miserable  fool  ?  (Con 
found  my  arm.) 

TARBOX. 

Mean?  I  mean  I  think  you  're  a  tarnation 
jackanapes !  and  now  I  'm  out  o'  the  army,  T  li 
tell  ye  so,  Capting  or  no  Capting. 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  IOI 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD  (shaking  him). 

Confound  you  !  Hold  your  tongue  !  Leave 
the  house!  and  be  thankful  I  have  a  wounded 
arm,  or  I  would  n't  let  you  off  so  easily.  (Pushes 

him  out.) 

TARBOX  (coming  back). 

And  as  to  that  Miss  Flory  .... 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD  (furious). 
Leave  the  house,  I  say  !      (Pushes  him  out  again.) 

TARBOX  (reappearing). 

I  Ve  as  much  right  in  the  house  as  you,  and  i 
darned  sight  more,  —  and  — 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Begone!  not  another  word!  (Thrusts  him  out 
and  slams  the  door.)  I  shall  tell  Flora  she  really  must 
insist  on  Miss  Prim's  receiving  that  man's  visits 
somewhere  else  !  (Looks  at  dock.)  Flora  must  be 
ready  by  this  time,  I  should  think !  She  has  been 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  putting  on  her  hat. 

[Exit. 
Re-enter  TARBOX  by  other  door. 

TARBOX. 

I  jest  went  into  the  back  parlour,  and  waited  till 
I  heerd  him  go  out.  Never  see  sech  a  peppery 
chap  in  my  born  days  !  Hope  he  won't  come 
back  !  Never  could  git  along  with  sech  folks. 
'Fraid  I  'm  in  a  fix.  And  this  Miss  Flory  too,  — 
she 's  a  darned  sight  too  fine  a  lady  for  me.  Don't 


1O2  A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 

know  nothin'  about  farmin',  and  says  tobaccer 
makes  her  sick !  I  'd  ruther  have  the  other 
woman,  by  a  long  chalk.  Here  she  comes  now,  — 
guess  I  '11  pump  her  some  about  Miss  Flory. 

Enter  Miss  PRIM. 
Marm,  I  want  to  hev  a  talk  with  you. 

PRIM. 
Very  happy,  I  'm  sure,  Mr.  Tarbox. 

TARBOX. 

You  see,  Miss  Prim,  I  begin  to  think  I  was 
barking  up  the  wrong  tree  in  regard  to  Miss  Flory. 
In  fact  I  ought  n't  'er  hev  got  into  the  scrape  at 
all,  —  only  Letter  No.  6  in  my  book  was  what 
they  called  a  "  Formal  Declaration,"  —  and  of 
course  I  had  to  take  'em  as  they  come,  —  and  so  I 
jest  got  myself  hooked  !  But  she  's  too  stuck- 
up  for  my  purpose,  with  her  airs  and  graces,  and 
fallals,  —  I  ain't  used  to  sech. 

PRIM. 
You  are  a  man  of  sense,  I  see,  Mr.  Tarbox. 

TARBOX. 

How  she  'd  look  svveepin'  raound  our  farm-house 
in  one  o'  them  long  trailin'  gowns  !  Guess  't  would 
save  brooms.  And  they  must  cost  a  heap,  too. 
S'pose,  now,  sech  a  gown  as  that  she  had  on  would 
come  as  high  as  ten  or  eleven  dollars  ? 

PRIM. 
Ten  or  eleven  !     My  dear  sir !  in  these  times,  it 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  IO3 

did  n't  cost  a  cent  less  than  a  hundred !  And 
that 's  nothing  to  some  of  her  dresses.  Why,  I  '11 
just  show  you  one  of  her  bills. 

[Gives  him  a  bill  a  yard  long. 

TARBOX. 

I  snum  !  Jerewsalem  !  What 's  this  ?  (Reads  j 
"  A  Blackamoor,  four  hundred  dollars"  ;  that  won't 
do,  —  that's  goin'  agin  the  Amendment  of  the 
Constitution. 

PRIM. 

No,  no,  dear  Mr.  Tarbox,  not  "  Blackamoor,"  — 
a  black  moire.  It 's  a  very  expensive  kind  of  silk. 

TARBOX. 

I  bet.  Why,  you  could  stump  the  State,  and  run 
for  Congress,  on  four  hundred  dollars.  (Reads.)  "A 
blue  illusion,  and  trimmings,  —  two  dollars  and 
fifty  cents."  Come,  that 's  more  reasonable. 

PRIM. 

No,  no,  not  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents,  —  two 
himdred  and  fifty  dollars.  (And  some  of  her  rose- 
coloured  illusions  will  cost  her  more  than  that !) 

TARBOX. 

Miss  Flory  must  have  a  pretty  considerable  pile, 
hain't  she  ? 

PRIM. 

Yes,  but  her  money  is  settled  on  herself,  and 
she  spends  it  all  on  her  clothes  J 


IO4  A   CHANGE    OF   BASE. 

TARBOX. 
Look  here,  Miss  Prim,  do  your  bills  foot  up  like 

Flory's  ? 

PRIM. 

Oh!  no,  sir.  /  consider  simplicity  the  truest 
taste  ! 

TARBOX  (aside). 

Guess  I  '11  decide  on  the  Change  of  Base.  (Aloud.) 
Now  tell  me  truly,  —  is  she  the  kind  o'  gal  that 
can  turn  her  hand  to  anything,  and  help  raound 
a  farm  ? 

PRIM. 

O  Mr.  Tarbox !  she  never  did  anything  useful 
in  all  her  life !     /  keep  the  house',  —  and  take  all 
'  the  care,  and  (Diffidently)  I  was  brought  up  on  a 
farm. 

TARBOX. 

Then  you  're  the  gal  for  me !  —  if  you  '11  have 
me,  —  will  yer  ?  —  Say  ? 

PRIM  (bridling). 

Oh !  indeed,  that  requires  some  consideration, 
Mr.  Tarbox ! 

TARBOX. 

Wai,  yer  need  n't  if  yer  don't  want  to.  It  don't 
make  no  odds  to  me.  There  's  Melindy  Jones, 
down  to  Skowhegan,  —  she  '11  have  me,  I  reckon. 

PRIM  (alarmed). 

Oh  !  I  did  n't  intend,  —  I  only  meant,  —  are  you 
in,  —  ahem,  easy  circumstances,  Mr.  Tarbox  ? 


A    CHANGE    OF   BASE.  IO$ 

TARBOX. 

Fust-rate.  I  've  got  a  great  little  farm  down 
there.  'T  ain't  like  my  neighbour,  who  can't  raise 
nothin'  on  his  farm  but  a  mortgage !  —  And  I  Ve 
got  kyows,  pigs,  chickens,  a  yoke  of  oxen,  and  a 
one-hoss  chay,  —  and  a  fung.  Tell  ye,  we  could 
git  along  pretty  slick. 

PRIM. 

O !  Mr.  Tarbox,  —  you  are  so  persuasive,  - 
there 's  no  resisting  you ! 

TARBOX. 

All  right  then,  —  it 's  a  bargain.  I  '11  resk  it,  if 
you  will,  — 

PRIM  (sentimentally). 

I  will,  Hezekiah  ! 

TARBOX. 

Guess  I  shall  have  a  pretty  hard  job  to  make 
it  right  with  Miss  Flory,  —  but  after  what  you 
told  me,  I  would  n't  have  her,  —  no,  not  if  you  'd 
give  me  five  hundred  dollars  !  Now  I  'm  going 
out,  to  see  the  Cupalo  of  the  State  House. 

PRIM. 

What,  going  ?  Then  your  Tabitha  will  accom 
pany  you  !  [Exeunt  PRIM  and  TARBOX. 

Enter  FLORA  in  walking-dress. 

I  must  and  will  be  free  !  I  wonder  whether  he 
would  release  me,  if  I  offer  him  half  my  fortune ! 


IO6  A    CHANGE    OF   BASE. 

I  might  have  been  the  happiest  girl  in  the  world, 
but  for  my  own  miserable  folly  !     Fred  loves  me, 
—  he  has  entreated  me  to  be  his  wife,  —  and  I 
could  n't  say  yes  !  —  but  I  did  rit  say  no  I 

Re-enter  TARBOX,  F 'RIM  following. 

TARBOX. 

My  pipe  !  I  must  ha'  left  it  here  !  (Sees  FLORA.) 
Hullo,  here  she  is  now.  (To  PRIM.)  You  clear  out, 
and  I  '11  fix  her. 

[Exit  PRIM,  kissing  Jier  hand  to  him. 

Miss  Flory !  I  Ve  got  suthin  to  say  to  you.  I  'm 
afraid  you  '11  feel  kinder  disappinted  at  first. 
(Aside.)  Gosh  !  I  hope  she  won't  faint,  —  I  '11  hev 
a  glass  o'  water  all  ready  to  dash  in  her  face. 

(Pours  out  some  water,  and  sits  holding  tumbler.     Aloud.)     Fact 

is,  Miss  Flory,  I  'm  most  afraid  it  won't  do  for  us 
to  hitch  our  horses  together. 

FLORA. 
Horses  ?  what  horses,  Mr.  Tarbox  ? 

TARBOX. 
You  see,  Miss  Flory,  I  was  buyin'  a  pig  .... 

FLORA. 

I  told  you  already,  that  I  don't  understand  pigs, 
sir! 

TARBOX  (distinctly). 

I  mean,  that  I  was  buyin'  a  pig  in  a  poke,  when 
I  agreed  to  marry  you  without  hevin'  seen  you. 
And,  to  tell  ye  the  truth,  now  I  hev  seen  ye,  you 
ain't  a  mite  like  the  kind  o'  gal  we  raise  down  to 
Skowhegan. 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE.  IO/ 

FLORA. 
Indeed ! 

TARBOX. 

You  're  altogether  too  highfalutin'  to  suit  us  down 
there,  —  and,  —  and,  —  I  kind  o'  hate  to  tell  ye,  'cos 
I  know  you  've  been  lotting  on  it,  —  but  really  and 
truly  now,  I  guess  we  had  better  be  off  our  bar 
gain.  D'  yer  feel  faint  ?  (Throws  water  at  her.) 

FLORA. 
Don't !  DON'T  ! !  DON'T  ! ! !     (Shrinks.) 

TARBOX. 

Highstericks  !  by  jing  !  Don't  take  on  so,  Miss 
Flory.  It  's  a  disappintment,  I  know,  —  but 
you  '11  git  over  it  in  time.  There  !  now  she  's 
beginnin'  to  larf,  —  that  's  alters  the  way  in  high- 
stericks  ! 

FLORA  (aside). 

What  an  escape  !  I  certainly  never  thought  he 
would  refuse  me !  (Aloud.)  Mr.  Tarbox,  I  entirely 
agree  with  you,  as  to  the  expediency  of  "  being 
off  our  bargain,"  and  I  promise  you  I  won't  die 
of  a  broken  heart. 

TARBOX. 

Then  you  won't  feel  bad  when  I  tell  you,  I 
cal'ate  to  git  married  to  yer  friend  there,  instead  ? 

FLORA. 

Do  you  really  ?  Well,  I  am  delighted.  I  think 
Miss  Prim  exactly  suited  to  you.  But,  Mr.  Tar- 


IO8  A   CHANGE   OF   BASE. 

box,  one  thing  I  must  insist  upon,  —  you  must 
return  every  one  of  my  letters. 

TARBOX. 
Can't  do  it. 

FLORA 

Can't  do  it  ?  Then,  sir,  you  must  be  lost  to 
every  sentiment  of  honour,  and  I  shall  request  my 
cousin,  Captain  Dashwood,  to  .... 

TARBOX. 

Lord  bless  yer,  yer  don't  suppose  I  kept  all  that 
rubbish,  do  yer  ?  Why,  I  read  'em  about  half 
way  through  mostly,  and  then  I  lighted  my  pipe 
with  'em ! 

FLORA. 

A  warning  to  girls  ! 

Enter  CAPT.  DASHWOOD  front,  and  PRIM  back.     TARBOX  goet 
towards  PRIM. 

FLORA  (aside  to  CAPT.  DASHWOOD). 

Dear  Fred,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish.  (Gives  him  her 
hand.  Aloud.}  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  Mr. 
Tarbox  is  going  to  marry  Miss  Prim. 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 
Oh,  I  knew  that  already. 

TARBOX  (aside  to  PRIM). 
And  she 's  goin'  to  take  up  with  him,  ain't  she  ? 

(Points  with  his  thumb  at  CAPT.  DASHWOOD.) 


A    CHANGE    OF    BASE. 


PRIM  (aside  to  TARBOX). 

She  always  was  a  flirt,  Hezekiah,  —  but  we 
would  n't  change,  would  we  ? 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

And  now,  dearest  Flora,  if  Miss  Prim  leaves 
you,  you  can't  live  alone  ;  and  you  know  my 
furlough  only  lasts  a  week,  and  writing  letters  is 
very  unsatisfactory  ..... 

FLORA. 

Yes  !  I  '11  never  write  another  letter  as  long 
as  I  live  ! 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

It  is  n't  like  seeing  one  another  face  to  face,  is 
it? 

FLORA. 

No  !  indeed  it  is  not  ! 

CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

Then  the  only  thing  to  do,  is  for  us  to  be 
married  immediately,  and  I  can  take  you  back 
with  me  to  Fortress  Monroe.  .... 

TARBOX    (to  PRIM). 

And  I  '11  take  you  back  to  the  State  of  Maine, 
where  I  '11  turn  my  baggonet  into  a  prewning- 
hook,  pretty  darned  quick.  (To  the  audience.}  And 
if  any  on  ye  ever  come  within  a  mile  of  Skow- 
hegan,  think  of  yer  friend  Tarbox,  —  and  stop  ! 


HO  A   CHANGE    OF    BASE. 

SONG. 

AIR,  —  "A  little  dance  to-night." 

•  CAPT.  DASHWOOD. 

We  wish  you  a  pleasant  journey  back 

To  that  delightful  town, 
And  think  you  're  better  mowing  hay, 

Than  mowing  Rebels  down.  . 

Our  country  now  needs  all  her  sons,  -•- 

She  '11  miss  you,  it  is  true, 
But  she  has  seven  hundred  thousand  left, 

And  I  think  we  '11  pull  her  through  ! 
Then  fare  you  well,  Mr.  Tarbox,  Mr.  Tarbox,  Mr.  Tarbox, 
And  fare  you  well,  Mrs.  Tarbox,  —  we  Change  our  Base  to 
morrow  ! 

(To  FLORA.) 

A  soldier's  time  is  short,  my  love, 

Forgive  this  hasty  wooing,  — 
But  though  the  knot  be  quickly  tied, 

You  '11  find  there  's  no  undoing ! 
And  if  our  country  need  her  sons, 
She  needs  her  daughters  too, — 
Together  we  're  thirty-five  millions  strong,  — 

And  I  think  we  '11  see  her  through  ! 

Then  fare  you  well,  Mr.  Tarbox,  Mr.  Tarbox,  Mr.  Tarbo..:, 
And  fare  you  well,  Mrs.  Tarbox,  —  we  Change  our  Base  to 
morrow  ! 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN; 

OR, 

THE   VIOLENT    REMEDY. 


CHARACTERS. 


MR.  BENJAMIN  BACKBAY. 
JULIA  BACKBAY. 
MRS.  POST. 
DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 


SCENE    I. 

Mr.  Backbay's  House.  —  A  Table  with  Breakfast. 
MR.  BACKBAY  (alone}. 

HALF  past  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  —  and 
no  Mrs.  Backbay  !  A  hard  case,  indeed,  that  I 
should  always  breakfast  alone  !  I  did  n't  foresee 
that,  when  I  married  Julia  Spinner  into  a  new 
house  with  all  the  modern  improvements.  Rail 
roads,  contracts,  petroleum,  gold  mines,  —  all  get 
up,  —  but  there 's  no  getting  Julia  up  !  This  comes 
of  the  "  marriage  of  a  prominent  and  influential 
citizen,  well  known  in  financial  circles,  with  a 
young  and  lovely  ornament  of  our  most  distin 
guished  and  fashionable  haut  ton?  I'm  the  citi 
zen,  —  Julia  's  the  ornament.  I  go  to  bed,  —  she 
goes  to  balls.  Dancing  is  her  passion,  —  my 
aversion;  and  when  Julia  turns  out,  I  turn  in, 
both  in  white.  Ah  !  here  she  comes,  dead  beat 
after  the  Fagends'  great  blow-out. 

Enter  MRS.  BACKBAY  (yawning). 

Good  morning,  Mrs.  Backbay. 


Il6  DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
What!  — off  already? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Already  indeed !  Why,  I  've  shaved  by  gas, 
been  to  the  end  of  Long  Wharf,  —  bought  the 
dinner,  ate  my  breakfast,  and  read  the  papers 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

What  a  horrid  Goth  !  Such  a  lovely  ball,  Mr. 
Backbay  !  I  danced  every  dance,  till  the  music  fell 
asleep,  —  so  provokingly, — just  as  I  was  giving 
Herbert  Thompson  a  final  turn.  Dear  Mr.  Back- 
bay,  if  you  would  only  learn  to  dance,  —  you 
dear  old  duck  !  Why,  Mr.  Jiganti  's  old  enough 
to  be  your  father,  and  dances  in  the  most  heav 
enly  way,  —  with  one  foot  in  the  grave  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Pshaw !  you  won't  catch  me  putting  my  foot  in  it 

MRS.  BACKBAY  (sings). 

AIR  —  "Were  I  a  bird,  love." 

Had  I  my  way,  love, 

Soon  would  I  teach  it  thee  ! 
State  Street,  and  business,  all 

Given  up  should  be. 
Never  mind  your  stocks  and  shares,  — 
Never  mind  your  bulls  and  bears,  — 
Dance,  —  and  you  '11  see  your  cares 
Waltzing  away  ' 


DOCTOK    MONDSCHEIN.  117 

I,  too,  have  trials,  love, 
Housekeeping  's  such  a  tease  1 

Furnace  cracks  the  furniture, 
Water-pipes  will  freeze. 

But  let  a  waltz  begin, 

Round,  round  I  gaily  spin, 

Then  I  don't  care  a  pin, 
No,  —  no,  not  I  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY  (handing  invitation  cards). 

Here  's  more  of  their  tomfoolery  laid  out  for 
two  weeks  ahead  ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

How  nice  !  "  Mrs.  A.  J.  Tinker  requests  the 
pleasure,"  —  "  Mrs.  T.  Pike  Robinson  requests  the 
pleasure,"  —  "  Mrs.  Collingwood  Dabchick  re 
quests,"  —  "  Mrs.  Orville  Rich  requests,"  —  O,  with 
a  note  from  my  dearest  Rosalba !  (Reads.)  "  Dear 
est  Julia,  I  have  worried  mamma,  and  plagued 
papa,  into  having  the  German  here  Thursday 
week.  Is  n't  it  sweet  ?  And,  my  dear,  my  things 
are  through  the  Custom-House,  and  I  shall  have 
my  new  Roget  silk,  made  and  trimmed  precisely 
like  the  Empress's.  Is  rit  it  sweet  ?  Of  course 
we  depend  on  you.  You  know  you  can't  resist 
tlie  German.  So,  my  dear,  come,  and  talk  it  over 
with,  yours  a  jamais,  Rosie  Rich.  P.  S.  —  Fred 
implored  me  to  wait  a  month  for  his  moustache ; 
but  I  could  n't,  would  n't,  should  n't ! " 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

(Aside.)  Who  the  devil 's  the  German  ?  (Aloud.) 
My  dear,  Thursday  week 's  your  aunt's. 


Il8  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
My  aunt's  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Tea,  at  Aunt  Post's,  — at  Newton  Coiner. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
I  '11  put  it  off,  —  I  '11  say  the  horses  are  lame  , 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Then  the  Needlewoman's  Friend  will  get  her 
money. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  '11  work  her  an  Afghan.    • 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
More  likely  you  '11  catch  a  Tartar ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  would  n't  miss  that  German,  —  no,  not  for  the 
world ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
The  German  again  !  —  I  don't  like  it ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

O  Mr.  Backbay !  your  heart  is  dead  to  the 
delight  of  dancing.  The  waltz-music  so  delicious- 
ly  blends  joy  and  sadness,  that  the  very  soul 
seems  to  sway,  and  float  away  into  Elysium ! 
Music,  flowers,  perfumes,  toilets,  Champagne, 
and  the  German,  —  make  heaven  on  earth  1 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 


MR.  BACKBAY. 

(Aside.)  Some  d  —  d  Count  's  round.  (Aloud.)  I 
wish,  Mrs.  Backbay,  you  did  n't  run  this  thing 
quite  so  much  into  the  ground.  It  's  all  very  well 
for  a  girl  to  polk  a  few  thousand  miles  when  she 
gets  out  of  school,  but  in  my  humble  opinion, 
ma'am,  a  full-grown  female,  with  an  adult  hus 
band,  and  an  A  i  establishment,  had  better  be 
minding  her  kitchen  and  her  nursery.  There  's 
buttons  enough,  ma'am,  off  my  shirts,  to  keep  you 
busy  till  decent  folks'  bedtime,  every  night  in 
the  week  ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

A  pretty  programme,  sir,  for  a  lady  !  You 
should  have  married  in  your  own  sphere  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

O,  bosh  ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

You  have  no  heart,  —  and  no  taste  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Or  I  should  n't  have  chosen  you. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Thank  you,  sir  ;  I  might  have  married  Lieuten 
ant  Ambergris  — 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
And  lived  on  his  buttons. 


I2O  DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Thank  heaven,  I  have  one  escape  from  your 
barbarities !  and  I  only  beg,  that,  while  I  do  not 
interfere  with  your  pursuits,  you  will  leave  me  to 

follow  mine. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Follow  the  German,  I  suppose. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
Yes,  sir,  the  German,  if  I  please. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
To  the  Devil,  ma'am  ? 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
To  the  Hartz  Mountains,  sir  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

The  Heart's  what  ?  That  I  call  cool  !  Mrs. 
Backbay,  this  thing  must  stop,  —  it  must  stop,  I 
say,  —  or  there  '11  be  mischief ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
What  thing  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

This  —  this  —  this  German  ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
Never ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Now!  Face  your  infatuation  like  a  man. — 
Struggle  with  it,  —  wrestle  with  it,  —  break  it 
down,  —  bottle  it  up,  —  cast  it  away ! 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN.  12 1 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Abandon  the  German?  Never!  I  adore  the 
German,  —  live  for  the  German,  —  dream  of  the 
German  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Julia !  Madam  !  Such  sentiments  disgrace 
you !  I  am  amazed  at  your  assurance  in  uttering 
them  to  me.  My  eyes  are  opened,  and  my  hair 
stands  on  end  !  I  shall  say  no  more  at  present, 
as  it  is  time  for  me  to  attend  a  meeting,  but  leave 
you  to  reflect  on  the  awful  consequences  of  per 
sistence  in  this  wickedness.  (Aside.)  I  must  talk 
over  this  delicate  matter  with  Aunt  Post,  confi 
dentially,  through  an  ear-trumpet.  [Exit, 

MRS.  BACKBAY  (alone). 

So  violent !  so  unreasonable  !  so  ridiculous ! 
A  scene  about  my  harmless  diversion  !  —  my  only 
relief  from  the  odious,  stupid,  tedious  life  I  live  ! 
I  'm  quite  upset  by  it,  —  my  head  aches,  —  my 
heart  beats,  —  my  eyes  are  red !  I  shall  look 
like  a  perfect  fright  leading  a  German  with  red 
eyes  !  —  I  '11  send  for  that  Homoeopathic  Physi 
cian  who  has  done  such  wonders  with  Florence 
Fagend.  You  take  sweet  little  pills,  in  dear  little 
bottles,  and  you  're  all  right,  Florence  says,  and 
nothing  the  matter  with  you  !  I  '11  send  for  him 
this  minute !  [Exit. 


122  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 


SCENE    II. 

Mrs.  Post's  House.  —  Mrs.  Post  seated,  knitting.  — 
Enter  Mr.  Backbay. 

MRS.  POST  (without  looking). 

Peter,  I  should  say,  kill  both,  Peter Lor* 

Mr.  Backbay,  pray  excuse  me  ;  I  thought  it  was 
Peter,  about  the  pigs.  I  did  n't  hear  you  ring, 
though  I  can  hear  the  Orthodox  bell,  when  the 
wind  's  easterly,  as  it  most  always  is.  How  is 
my  darling  Julia  ?  —  gay  as  ever  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
In  the  very  vortex,  ma'am,  of  dissipation. 

MRS.  POST. 

I  'm  so  glad,  Benjamin,  to  have  her  expensive 
education  come  into  play.  To  think  that  the 
little  girl  who  fell  into  the  duck-pond  should  be 
such  an  ornament  to  society  as  dear  Julia  is,  — 
and  such  a  fine  dresser  too.  Did  the  pea-soup 
ever  come  out  of  her  purple  silk  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
I  have  come  to  consult  you  on  a  very  delicate 

business  — 

MRS.  POST. 

I  should  try  benzine. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

—  and  one  in  which  I  feel  the  greatest  per 
plexity  how  to  act. 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN.  123 

MRS.  POST. 

Without   caution,    the    spot    may   spread,   and 
some  object  to  the  smell,  but  — 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
- 1  'm  very  wretched  — 

MRS.  POST. 
Try  benzine  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
—  I  'm  quite  overpowered  — 

MRS.  POST. 

Rub  in  a  little  musk,  or  ottar  of  rose,  and  you 
won't  perceive  it,  —  you  won't  perceive  it. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
- 1  wish  to  act  with  vigour  — 

MRS.  POST. 
Put  in  a  new  breadth  ! 

MR,  BACKBAY. 
-  but  without  precipitation  — 

MRS.  POST. 
Perhaps  a  back  breadth  could  be  managed. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
—  and  I  '11  try  to  hide  my  indignation  — 

MRS.  POST. 

So  you  could !     Hide  it  under  a  broad  velve* 
trimming, 


124  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

-     MR.  BACKBAY. 
—  though  gored  to  desperation  ! 

MRS.  POST. 

Gored  ?  Then  there  's  nothing  but  benzine,  lor 
goring  cuts  up  your  stuff  awfully,  and  leaves  you 
no  resource  against  such  accidents  as  happen  in 
the  best  society. 

MR.  BACKBAY  (very  loud). 
It 's  worse  than  pea-soup,  Aunt  Post ! 

MRS.  POST. 

Not  fish-ball  ?  I  once  had  one  in  my  lap 
through  a  whole  dinner  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

I  have  been  very  careless,  and  Julia  sadly  im 
prudent,  and  great  distress  to  both  may  be  the 
result. 

MRS.  POST. 

Why,  Benjamin,  how  you  frighten  me  !  What 
has  happened  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

You  know  Julia's  fondness  for  admiration, — 
I  fear  it  may  have  carried  her  too  far. 

MRS.  POST. 

Now,  if  it 's  the  old  story  about  Captain  Beverly 
Bean,  you  may  feel  quite  easy,  Benjamin. 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN.  125 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

No,  it 's  not  Beverly  Bean.  It  *s  a  German. 
Julia  is  madly  in  love  with  a  German.  Raves 
about  him  !  Dreams  of  him  !  Tells  m«  so  to 
my  face. 

MRS.  POST. 

My  niece,  Julia  Spinner  that  was,  in  love  with 
a  German  ?  I  '11  not  believe  it,  brought  up  as 
Julia 's  been,  —  never !  —  never  !  —  NEVER  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

It 's  time  she  was  brought  up  with  a  round 
turn.  See  her,  and  hear  it  for  yourself.  I  tell 
you,  she 's  desperate,  —  she  's  not  herself !  Come 
to  her,  dear  madam.  Reason  with  her.  One  ef 
fort,  before  I  cast  her  off  forever,  and  join  Brig- 
ham  Young. 

MRS.  POST. 

If  Julia  goes  off  with  a  German,  every  cent  of 
mine  goes  to  the  Sailors'  Snug  Harbor  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Come,  before  my  affections  are  forever  alienated, 
—  and  my  passage  paid  to  Utah  ! 

MRS.  POST. 
What  do  you  think  of  Tufts  College  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Persuade  her  to  renounce  this  German  —    . 


L26  DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN. 

MRS.  POST. 
A  needy,  though  meritorious  institution  — 

*  MR.  BACKBAY. 

Or  I  give  her  up  !  I  won't  play  second  fiddle  to 
a  German  !  Hang  the  fellow ! 

MRS.  POST. 

Benjamin,  I'll  come  in,  —  I'll  come  in,  and 
ascertain  from  Julia  herself  what  all  this  means. 
I  am  slow,  I  confess,  to  prejudge  her  conduct ; 
but  if  your  suspicions  are  founded,  and  my  appeal 
prove  vain,  I  think  it  will  be  the  Sailors,  —  on  con 
dition,  however,  that  they  give  up  tobacco  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

I  trust  you  will  be  able  to  mend  matters.  If 
not,  I  wash  my  hands  of  her,  and  disappear  at 
once.  I  could  n't  show  my  face  on  'Change,  or 
walk  round  the  Common.  I  should  be  the  talk 
of  all  the  Insurance  Offices  and  Sewing-Circles, 
the  victim  of  a  million  carping,  gibing  lies,  and 
at  the  mercy  of  every  idle  tongue  and  pen  in  the 
community ! 

MRS.  POST. 

Have  you  seen  this  object  of  your  fears  and  sus 
picions,  Mr.  Backbay  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Should  n't  know  him  from  an  organ-grinder. 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN.  I2/ 

MRS.  POST. 
Has  Julia  received  him  at  the  house,  Benjamin? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Not  she !    There  'd  be  murder  !  Ma'am,  murder! 

MRS.  POST. 

Benjamin,  be  calm,  and  I  shall  bear  up  as  I  can 
against  the  evidences  of  my  niece's  misconduct. 
Have  you  intercepted  their  correspondence,  noticed 
flowers  about,  or  heard  singing  under  the  windows 

at  night  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

I  can't  say  I  have,  —  that  is,  distinctly,  —  that 
I  can  now  recall. 

MRS.    POST  (sarcastically). 

I  have  heard  of  husbands  supposed  to  devote 
more  attention  to  business  and  billiards  than  to 
their  domestic  concerns,  and  who  are  so  occupied 
with  stocks,  whist,  horses,  and  male  dinner-parties, 
that  their  wives  are  left  to  their  own  meditations. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Yes,  ma'am,  and  /  have  heard  of  ladies  who, 
instead  of  staying  at  home,  to  run  the  machine, 
are  so  full  of  fashions  and  folly  and  flummery,  of 
shopping  and  dressing,  and  dancing  .... 

MRS.  POST. 

Pray  don't  be  at  the  pains  of  going  through  the 
list,  sir.  I  have  heard  hundred*  of  men  talk, 


128  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN- 

hundreds  cu   times,  about  women,  and   they  all 
talked  —  like  fools  ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Upon  my  word,  ma'am,  they  knew  whom  they 
were  talking  to  ! 

MRS.  POST. 

A  gallant  speech,  Mr.  Backbay  !  Now  I  dare 
say  the  German  gentleman's  manners,  and  opin 
ions  about  ladies,  are  quite  the  reverse  of  yours, 
and  if  he  's  in  narrow  circumstances,  perhaps  he  'd 
give  you  a  few  lessons,  which  would  do  you,  Ben 
jamin,  a  world  of  good. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

I  doubt  if  he  and  I  improve  each  other  much 
when  we  meet,  ma'am. 

MRS.  POST. 

Well,  Benjamin,  you  have  n't  met  him  yet ;  and 
for  a  matter-of-fact  man,  going  on  to  threescore, 
I  begin  to  regard  him  as  a  highly  poetical  crea 
tion.  I  sha'n't  alter  my  will  till  I  have  seen  him 
through  my  own  glasses,  and  meantime  I  advise 
you,  Benjamin,  to  drop  the  green  spectacles  of  a 
jealous  husband,  and  leave  things  to  me  and  Julia. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Good  bye,  ma'am.  Ydu  may  laugh,  but  you  '11 
find  me  terribly  in  earnest !  [Exit. 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN.  I2Q 

SCENE    III. 

Mrs.  Backbatfs  Drawing-room.  —  Enter  Dr.  Mond- 
schein. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN  (alone]. 

Schon.  So  ist  gut.  Ja.  Fine  haus,  dieser.  Rich 
peoples.  Eats  und  trinks  zu  viel  immer.  Then 
they  cry,  "  Doctor,  ach  !  mine  head  !  ach  !  mine 
heart !  ach  !  my  eye  !  So  ist  gut.  They  speak 
ver'  long,  —  so  much  I  hear.  I  look  more  mourn 
ful,  shake  my  head  so  grave.  "Ver'  bard,"  I  say. 
"  You  poolsation  more  als  von  hundert.  You 
tongue  so  green  as  grass.  You  systeme  ganz 
gebroken  down.  Ja.  Gut  for  nicht.  So  miissen 
sie  now  die  small  pill  take  in  —  so  —  und  in  funf- 
zehn  minuten  besser  grow,  und  ganz  wohl  in  von 
hour  time.  You  pay  me  five  dollar."  Schon. 

Enter  MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Madame  (Bows),  I  am  flattened  by  your  com 
mand 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Permit  me,  Doctor,  to  consult  your  extraordi 
nary  skill  in  treatment  of  nervous  affections. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 
Madame,  you  are  flatter  still ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  suffer  from  violent  alternations  of  the  wildest 
spirits  and  the  deepest  dejection  ! 


I3O  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Ja,  —  is  ver'  wild  spirits  in  my  country.  Black 
Forest  full  —  full ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  sigh,  I  know  not  why,  and  weep  for  hours 
alone  ;  then  plunge  into  the  gayest  excitement 
for  relief.  In  the  morning,  I  have  a  ringing  in 
my  ears,  and  taste  a  queer  taste,  and  cannot  eat 
any  breakfast.  I  fear  my  nerves  are  sadly  shat 
tered  ! 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Ver  bard.  Permit  me.  (Feels pulse.)  You  pool- 
sation  more  als  von  hundert.  You  systeme  ganz 
gebroken  down.  Gut  for  nicht.  Ja.  So.  Muss 
now  die  small  pill  take  in  —  so  — 

Enter  MR.  BACKBAY  unpercerved. 
MR.  BACKBAY  (aside). 

The  German  here  !  in  my  house !  holding  my 
wife's  hand !  I  '11  listen,  and  confound  them  both  ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

t 

O,  my  poor  heart  is  fluttering  so ! 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Dear  madame,  you  must  trust  to  me  you  poor 
heart.  I  shall  make  you  so  harpy,  and  I  shall  kill 
to-morrow  dat  bose  Geist,  dat  evil  spirit,  who 
make  you  life  now  miserable. 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN.  1$! 

MR.  BACKBAY  (aside). 
Make  'way  with  me  !  villain  ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
O,  so  soon  !  —  by  what  means  ? 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Look  not  so  frightful,  dear  madame.  I  shall  a 
lethal  poison-bottle  use,  ver'  mighty  potentate,  dat 
give  his  quietus  very  sudden,  —  very  sure,  dear 
madame. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  have  entire  faith  in  you,  and  place  myself 
wholly  in  your  hands. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Madame,  I  am  altogether  flattened  -by  you  con 
fidence.  My  devotion  shall  to  you  cheek  revive 
the  lily  and  the  rose's  bloom,  —  the  fire  to  you 
beauteous  eye,  —  the  angel  music  to  you  voice,  — 
and  you  shall  become  once  more  so  harpy,  and 
laughable  as  ever. 

MR.  BACKBAY  (aside). 
When  I  'm  dead  and  gone ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  'm  all  impatience  !  Send  me  the  precious  bot 
tle,  with  your  directions,  which  I  '11  obey  exactly. 


132  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Madame,  I  shall  have  the  honour.  (Bows.)  Ma 
dame,  I  take  my  leave,  till  afternoon  ;  when,  with 
you  kind  permit,  I  shall  again  wait  upon  you 
another  time. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  shall  expect  you  eagerly.  Good  morning ; 
I  '11  show  you  the  way  down. 

[Exeunt  MRS.  BACKBAY  and  DR.  MONDSCHEIN 

MR.  BACKBAY  (alone). 

Was  there  ever  such  an  awful  concoction  !  I 
can  hear  the  newsboys  screaming  my  "  Horrid 
murder  by  an  exiled  Pole  in  high  life  !  E-lope- 
ment  of  the  guilty  pair,  with  their  plunder,  — 
three  cents ! "  Ugh,  —  it  makes  my  blood  run 
cold  !  And  Julia  too,  —  so  young,  —  and  yet  as 
fiendishly  capable  of  diabolical  atrocities  as — Lu- 
cretia  Boardman  !  To-morrow,  I  'm  to  be  a  dead 
man.  Meantime,  I  '11  look  alive,  and  try  to  turn 
the  corner.  I  '11  eat  nothing, —  I  '11  drink  nothing, 
—  and  I  '11  sit  up  all  night  armed  !  If  I  'm  bound 
to  step  out,  and  go  up,  I  '11  sell  my  life  dearly,  — 
but  1  '11  try  to  sell  the  German  first,  and  Julia  into 
the  bargain  !  \Exit. 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN.  133 

SCENE    IV. 

Mrs.  Backbay  alone,  sewing  Buttons  on  a  Shirt. 
SONG,  — THE  MARRIED  LADY'S  LAMENT. 

AIR,  —  "  When  the  Swallows  homeward  fly." 

When  the  chairs  are  ranged  arounc" 
When  the  partners  all  are  found,  — 
When  the  band  begins  to  play, 
And  slow-coaches  go  away,  — • 

When  the  German  waits  for  me, 
Where  shall  I,  their  leader,  be? 
I  must  sit  at  home,  alone,  — 
Sewing,  yes,  sewing  shirt-buttons  on  1 

When  all  Beacon  Street  is  dressed 
In  its  newest  and  its  best,  — 
Flowers,  diamonds,  and  lace, 
Crinolines  of  heavenly  grace,  — 
I,  the  envied  of  them  all, 
Shall  be  here,  —  not  at  the  ball,  — 
In  an  old  alpaca  gown, 
Sewing,  yes,  sewing  shirt-buttons  on ! 

Ah  1  how  different  men  become 
When  you  live  with  them  at  home ! 
No  more  having  your  own  way, 
You  must  do  just  what  they  say,  — 
Here  's  the  moral  of  my  rhyme,  — 
Girls,  be  warned,  —  be  warned  in  time ! 
Don't  marry,  and  sew  buttons  on,  — 
Husbands,  yes,  husbands  spoil  all  our  fun  ! 

A  ring  at  the  bell !  how  it  jars  my  poor  nerves ! 
Ah!  Mr.  Backbay!  you  little   imagine  the  an- 


134  DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN. 

guish  occasioned  by  your  brutalities  to  your  poor 

wife  !        [MR.  BACKBAY'S  head  rises  cautiously  behind  the  sofa. 
Enter  SERVANT. 

SERVANT. 
The  German  gem'man,  ma'am.  i 

Enter  DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Madame,  I  have  the  most  high  honour  to  wait 
upon  you,  with  the  potentate  in  the  leetle  bottle 
for  the  Evil  Spirit. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  shall  lose  no  time  in  trying  its  powers,  and,  if 
your  word  be  made  good,  I  shall  forever  bless  you 
as  my  preserver  — 

MR.  BACKBAY  (rushing  out  with  a  pistol). 
Give  me  the  bottle  !     Silence !  or  I  shoot ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 
Benjamin,  are  you  mad  ? 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Yes,  I  mean  to  plead  insanity!    (Pours  contents  of 

bottle  into  two  tumblers  with  water.} 

(To  DR.  MONDSCHEIN.)  Here,  your  Royal  High 
ness,  oblige  me  by  tossing  that  off ! 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 
Ich  verstehe  nicht,  donnerwetter  ! 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN.  1 35 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
Down  with  it,  man !     My  health  and  long  life, 

Or  I  shoot!      (DOCTOR  drinks  with  wry  face.}     Now  be  off, 

and  die  in  the  Public  Garden !  You  shall  have 
a  statue.  (Pushes  him  out.}  Woman !  take  the  rest ! 
Drink  it ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

My  Benjamin  is  mad  !     (Shrieks.) 

MR.  BACKBAY. 
No  words !     Drink  it,  I  say,  or  I  '11  shoot ! 

[She  drinks. 

There !  now  I  'm  comparatively  easy.  I  feel 
like  taking  a  cold  bite,  and  something  to  drink,  — 
minus,  of  course,  the  poison. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Benjamin,  if  you  are  Benjamin,  explain  this 
extraordinary  conduct ! 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

I  'm  as  Benjamin  as  possible,  thank  you,  and 
the  thing  's  as  clear  as  mud.  I  can  convict  you 
out  of  your  own  mouth.  You  confessed  your  love 
for  the  German  this  morning  ;  I  objected,  you 
insisted ;  I  opposed,  you  resisted  ;  I  remonstrated, 
you  persisted.  I  flew  to  your  aunt,  shouted  the 
whole  story,  and  ( Very  loud}  she 's  on  her  way  from 
Newton  Corner  in  a  carryall !  She  may  arrive  in 
time,  —  or  she  may  not.  I  came  back,  —  found 
the  German  closeted  with  you,  —  overheard  the 


136  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

plot  to  poison  me  and  marry  each  other,-  took 
the  hint,  and  here  I  am !  The  Baron  must  begin 
to  feel  pretty  badly  by  this  time.  He  '11  soon  keel 
up,  like  Maffeo  Morey  in  the  opera ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

Mr.  Backbay,  this  whole  thing  is  a  delusion,  —  an 
absurd  series  of  errors  !  "  The  German  "  is  not  a 
German,  and  the  other  German  is  not  a  Baron.  I 
hope  I  make  it  perfectly  clear?  If  not,  I  will. 
The  German  I  love  is  a  harmless  dance  ;  the  other 
German  is  an  equally  harmless  Homoeopath, — 
and  the  bottle  contained  a  harmless  remedy ! 

MR.  BACKBAY  (confounded). 

Whew  !  I  see.  I  'm  sold.  I  was  wrong.  And 
I  frankly  forgive  you  all.  I  '11  rush  into  the  Public 
Garden  after  the  German,  as  is  a  German,  and 
beg  him  not  to  swell  up,  and  die  on  my  account. 
Have  supper  ready  for  three.  [Exit. 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

I  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  at  this 
termination !  I  feared  my  dancing  days  were 
over,  c.nd  that  Benjamin  would  be  measured  for 
a  strait-jacket.  (Kings.)  If  he  can  mollify  Dr. 
Mondschein,  all  will  be  well.  (To  servant.)  Bring  in 
the  tray  with  wine  and  refreshments.  —  I  hear 
them  !  What  can  I  say  ?  I  certainly  never  ex 
pected  to  see  my  husband  leading  a  German  ! 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN.  137 

• 

Enter  MR.  BACKBAY  and  the  DOCTOR  arm  in  arm,  taking  snuff. 

MR.  BACKBAY  (sneezing). 

(Aside  to  MRS.  BACKBAY.)  The  dodge  is  intermittent 
insanity.  (Aloud.)  My  dear,  I  've  confided  to  the 
Doctor  the  secret  of  my  unhappy  infirmity,  and  he 
pardons  its  extravagance.  His  eagle  eye  at  once 
detected  it.  (DOCTOR  taps  forehead.)  Saw  that  mind 
had  succumbed  to  opulence,  and  might  fly  off  the 
handle  any  minute !  He  undertakes  my  case, 
and  will  visit  me  daily,  and  d — n  the  expense. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN  (bowing). 
Systeme  quite  gebroken  down.     Gut  for  nicht. 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Well,  it  does  want  winding  up,  and  we  '11  all  fall 
to,  and  recruit.  Sit  by  your  fair  patient,  Doctor, 
and,  this  time,  I  won't  meddle  with  your  prescrip 
tions.  (They  sit  and  eat  and  drink.)  Doctor,  you  sing  ? 

All  Dutchmen  eat  and  drink  and  sing. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Ja  wohl.  If  madame  permit,  I  shall  sing  of  my 
grandfader,  and  der  Evil  Spirit. 

SONG,  —  MARGRAVE   VON   BUTTERBROD. 
AIR,  —  "  Huntsman's  Chorus."  —  Der  Freischutz. 

My  grandfather  he  was  Ober-Kellner 
To  the  Margrave  von  Butterbrod,  residing  in  Bavaria, 

And  once,  when  they  went  to  hunt  the  wild  boar, 
The  Margrave  lost  his  way  in  the  woods  ! 


133  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

• 

And  the  rain  it  did  pour, 
And  the  thunder  did  roar, 
Such  lightning,  he  swore, 
He  had  ne'er  seen  before, 
And  by  each  flash  he  saw 
Some  fifty  thousand  fiends  or  more ! 
Follow,hark !  the  dogs  bark ! 
Follow, hark  !  It  grows  dark! 

What  a  bore  !  what  a  bore  1 
Says  the  Margrave,  "  Did  you  ever  ? ' 
No  I  never,  no,  I  never ! 

Never  knew  such  a  bore,  — 

Horrid  nasty  bore,  — 
DER  TEUFEL  TAKE  THE  WHOLE  CONCERN  1 

Now  Lucifer  was  present  in  a  twinkling, 
And  knocked  down  my  grandf 'ther,  and  carried  off  the  Mar 
grave, 

Bellowing  like  a  locomotive  engine, 
Never  to  be  heard  of  more  ! 

At  the  fiend's  awful  yell, 
And  the  strong  sulphur  smell, 
My  grandfather  soon 
Awoke  from  his  swoon 
When  a  red-hot  harpoon 
Ran  through  his  leather  pantaloon ! 
Follow,  hark  !     See  that  spark  ! 
In  the  dark  !     Follow,  hark  ! 

What  a  bore  !     What  a  bore  ! 
Says  my  grandf 'ther,  "  Did  you  ever?** 
No  I  never  !     No  I  never  ! 

Never  knew  such  a  bore,  — 

Horrid  nasty  bore,  — 
I  'd  better  cut  the  whole  concern  ! 

So  this  job  finished  up  the  Margrave, 
But  't  is  said  that  his  skeleton  rampages  round  a-horseback, 


DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN.  139 

Yelling  on  the  traces  of  the  wild-boar,  — 
Followed  by  his  demon  crew  ! 

And  his  steed  madly  bounds, 
And  away  go  his  hounds, 
And  his  horn  wildly  sounds, 
As  they  all  go  their  rounds, 
Till  the  whole  wood  resounds 
With  the  riot  of  the  Spectre  Hunt ! 
Follow,  hark !     Stiff  and  stark  ! 
Follow,  hark  !     What  a  lark  ! 

What  a  bore  !     What  a  bore  ! 
Go  it,  Margrave  !     Did  you  ever  ? 
No,  I  never,  no,  I  never ! 

Never  knew  such  a  bore,  — 

Horrid  nasty  bore,  — 
And  crash  went  the  whole  concern  ! 

(During  the  last  verse,  MRS.  POST  enters,  in  bonnet  and  shawl, 
and  stands  amazed,  unseen.) 

MR.  BACKBAY. 

Bless  my  soul !     And  do  I  understand  you,  sir, 
that  all  that  really  took  place  ? 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 
Every  wort  true ! 

MRS.  BACKBAY. 

And  your  interesting   grandfather,  —  does  he 
still  live  ? 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN. 

Madame,  he  went  up  ten  year  ago.     He  is  a 
Ghost ! 

MRS.  POST. 

Well,  I  never ! 


I4O  DOCTOR    MONDSCHEIN. 

MR.  BACKBAY  (perceiving  her). 

My  dear  aunt,  the  least  said,  the  soonest 
mended.  We  all  have  our  faults  (except  myself), 
and  "  all  the  clouds  that  lowered  upon  our  house  " 
have  happily  ended  in  Moonshine  ! 

SONG. 

AIR,  — "Trab,  trab." 
MRS.  BACKBAY  (to  the  ladies). 

And  if  your  nerves  are  shattered 

As  mine  are,  I  declare ! 

Don't  hurry  off  to  Europe 

To  see  physicians  there, 

But  try  my  doctor's  skill; 

He'll  cure  you, — yes  he  will, — 

Just  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein,  (he  lives  at  Chestnut  Hill,) 
Yes,  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein,  and  take  his  little  pill. 

AUNT   POST. 

Young  girls,  who  dance  till  morning, 

I,  too,  was  young  and  gay ; 
But  ah  !   by  me  take  warning,  — 
In  one  night  I  've  turned  grey. 
Hair  black  as  raven's  quill, 
Now  white  as  my  cap-frill, — 

I  'L  have  this  Dr.  Mondschein,  (he  may  restore  me  still,) 
I  '11  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein,  and  take  his  little  pill. 

DR.  MONDSCHEIN  (to  the  gentlemen). 

And  if  to  pay  you  taxes 

You  have  to  work  ver'  hard, 
Or  if  you  speculations 

Should  all  turn  out  ver'  bards 


DOCTOR   MONDSCHEIN.  14] 

If  all  dat  make  you  ill, 

Trust  not  to  lesser  skill,  — 

Bat  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein,  (der  Allopath  would  kill,') 
Ja,  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein,  and  take  my  leetle  pill ! 

TOGETHER. 

So,  now  our  play  is  ended, 

We  hope  you  're  satisfied,  — 
The  critics  now  before  us 

That  question  must  decide  ! 
And  if  you  're  ever  ill, 
Just  send  to  Chestnut  Hill,  — 

Yes,  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein,  (don't  mind  his  little  bill,) 
Yes,  send  for  Dr.  Mondschein, — and  take  his  LIT-TLE  PILL  1 


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